Fifty Shades of Secrets
by HAWTgeek
Summary: Three years ago,Anastasia Steele saw she could never be the sub that Christian Grey wanted, and she ran away from everything she knew in Seattle. So,when Christian Grey popped back into her life after a drunk night, things became complicated. When Ana's secret is revealed, can she make amends with the elusive Mr. Grey? (AU where Ana ran away before Fifty Shades Darker. Gets better)
1. Fifty Shades of Old Habits

_**Fifty Shades of Secrets**_

* * *

_**Three years ago, Anastasia Steele saw she could never be the sub that Christian Grey wanted, and she ran away from everything she knew in Seattle. So, when Christian Grey popped back into her life after a drunk night, things became complicated. Will Anastasia's secret get out, and can she make amends with the elusive Mr. Grey?**_

_**(AU where Ana ran away before Fifty Shades Darker)**_

* * *

**Chapter One: Fifty Shades of Old Habits**

**Anastasia Steele,**

Fuck. Everything hurt.

I knew those shots were too much, but I hadn't expected _this_.

I was never good at hangovers. The last one I had was when I drunk dialed Christian Grey and woke up in his hotel room, starting the biggest adventure of my life. Though our relationship- if I could even really call it that- was brief, I'd never loved anyone like I loved Christian, but he didn't want love. He wanted a nice, obedient little sub who didn't quiver at the sight of the Red Room of Pain, and I wasn't that girl. I knew that it would never work, so I left even though it killed me.

Really, I _did_ try my best to put Christian and our time together out my mind, but it was impossible...

I shifted in the bed, trying to remember where I kept my Aleve. Did even bring any with me? I didn't remember packing any, but I was sure that Scarlet packed it for us. After all, she planned on our trip to Puerto Rico be a drunk, relaxing haze where she could forget the messy details of her third, very profitable divorce. As her best friend, she'd forced me to come along, and I hadn't gotten really drunk the entire time. Even back in New York, I was the designated the driver, the responsible sober friend.

Until last night.

Scarlet seemed to be having so much _fun_. I didn't have enough fun. I hadn't had enough fun since Christian, and I thought that maybe Vodka could change that if only for one night.

I sat up slowly, taking my time blinking open my eyes. To my dismay, the Puerto Rico sun seemed even brighter than usual, and I winced. It took me time to adjust to the light, and when I did, I jumped.

_This is not my hotel room_.

Panic slowly filled my body as I frantically scanned the room. This suite was expensive-certainly more expensive than mine- but was nondescript otherwise. There were no distinguishing marks that would clue me in to how I arrived here, or if there were, my head too much to notice them.

This _couldn't _be happening, not again. I'd already woken up hungover in an expensive hotel room, and that was how Christian entered my life. I didn't want a repeat of that. I'd seen too many shades of Fucked Up, and I'd rather go back to my own Fifty Shades of Boring.

"Oh my God," I groaned, rubbing my neck, and as I averted my eyes once more from the expansive windows, I noticed a bottle of Aleve and a glass of water.

_Whoever brought me home last night was at least thoughtful... _

Quickly, I popped two pills into my mouth and downed it with a few gulps of water. Once the medicine kicked in, I slowly became more aware of my surroundings. For starters, the tight, black dress I'd worn last night to the club had been replaced by a much more comfortable tee shirt that was far too big for me.

Upside down, I could see the words "Harvard Business School" in bold letters.

Why did that feel familiar?

I cradled my head in my hand, deciding to hold off my investigation until I felt better.

"I will not get drunk again," I murmured, reassuring myself that this hangover would be my last.

While I was repeating my new mantra, the door to the suite opened, and I peered up to see whoever I'd shared this room with last night. I'd hoped they wouldn't return until I could locate my things, get dressed, and properly sneak out to begin my walk of shame.

My jaw dropped as I stared at the figure emerging from the door.

I must have been imagining things. Maybe my bartender slipped some hallucinogen in my drink last night… There was no possible way this was real.

"Good morning, Anastasia," his voice was warm and sultry. Deep inside, my muscles clenched, and I knew.

This was Christian Grey in all his intimidating, _fuck-me-right-now_ glory.

"Christian," I stared at him.

"Breakfast is on the way. English tea, bacon, waffles, scrambled eggs. I remembered you liked that before," his stride was confident as he moved towards me, and his expression was confusing. He seemed to be disappointed in me yet so happy as well.

Of course, Christian Grey looks confusing. Confusing is practically the man's middle name.

"Thank you…. What… What happened last night?" I bit my lower lip, and Christian's eyes lingered on my lip until I released it. How I wanted him to bite my lip instead.

No, I can't want that. It's been three years. I am an adult woman who will not cave to such desires. Even if they are incredibly strong...

"You were very drunk, Anastasia. You shouldn't drink like that," Christian admonished me, but a small smile formed, "At least you didn't puke on Azaleas this time," he smirked, and I blushed.

"I _don't _drink like that. At least, not_ usually_," I was flustered, "But, I don't even remember seeing you. How did I end up here?"

"You called me," Christian seemed surprised that I didn't remember, "At two in the morning, you called me in tears, apologizing and saying you needed to talk to me in person. It was actually pretty convenient. So convenient I thought you might have planned it…" Christian seemed to be floating the idea past me for confirmation, but my expression must have proven it wrong. I wouldn't have ever planned this. I wanted to move on from Christian, not wake up in his bed. Staring at me, Christian began again, "My family is at this resort. We're celebrating Elliott's engagement, so I knew the bar you were at. I went there immediately, and you passed out in my arms. You were _very drunk_."

I knew exactly what I'd wanted to tell him, and I swallowed nervously. It was the right thing to do, but how could I?

I didn't want to talk about it, so I changed the subject.

"Elliott is engaged?" I shoved my hair behind my ear.

"Yeah, to Kate. I thought you knew. I mean, she said she hadn't spoken to you since you left, but I always thought she was lying," Christian knit his eyebrows together, and I swallowed.

Kate was _engaged_.

And I'd missed it.

After I left Christian, I'd been so distraught. I'd run away to Ray and then Savannah for a while, doing my best to avoid my problems. I couldn't go back to Seattle and face the facts, so I roamed for a bit before ending up in New York City and settling down.

I'd always missed Kate but never contacted her. I knew she might tell more than I'd like her to if I let her in to my life now. Trusting her with a secret never worked out well, and I couldn't risk that.

"No, she wasn't lying. We haven't spoken in three years. I had no idea they were still together…" I sighed, "That's great for them."

"Yet, you had my number this entire time," Christian's eyes bore into mine, and I nervously stared at my knotted fingers, "Why didn't you call me before now, Anastasia?"

I shrugged, smoothing my tee shirt, "I just didn't, okay? I lived in New York, and you were in Seattle. I thought that it was just over. You weren't going to wait on me to get a new sub."

I was making Christian mad.

"A new sub?" his jaw tightened, "I haven't been able to have a _sub_ after you. I don't-" Christian was cut off by the familiar, high-pitched chirp of my smartphone. He stopped, trying to compose himself, and I crawled out of bed to see that Scarlet was calling.

Did he really just say he hadn't had a sub after me? What did that mean? Of course, he hadn't been _celibate_ for the last three years.

Oh no, he didn't have a girlfriend, did he? I couldn't handle that.

I'd been okay -well, okay _enough_\- for the last three years because I knew he needed a sub. He couldn't be in an equal relationship. He needed to be a dom, and I couldn't be a sub. But what if I was wrong? What if another girl had tied him down?

The thought made me sick.

"I'm sorry. It is my friend I'm here with. She'll be worried," I murmured, taking the call. Christian was still annoyed, but he got up, going towards the balcony to let me talk to my friend.

I took a deep breath and leaned against the wall as I accepted the call and watched him leave the room. How did he manage to look sexy doing literally everything?

"Where the _fuck_ are you?" Scarlet's sudden yell nearly made me wince, and I forced my attention to the phone call, "I had to go to yoga alone and hungover. Do you have any idea how much that _sucked_?" Scarlet complained.

"I'm sorry…. Apparently, last night, I called Christian, and he picked me up. He's at this resort," I ran my fingers through my hair, my voice hardly a whisper. Even as I told Scarlet, I couldn't believe this morning at all. Surely, I had to be dreaming. This doesn't just _happen_. Out of all of the resorts in the world, how did we end up at the same one at the same time?

"Christian? As in, _that_ Christian?" Scarlet quickly dropped her complaints to focus on this. Clearly, she understood the importance of this situation, but part of me wished she didn't. Then I could pretend everything was alright, and I could stick my hand in the sand like I always do. "Wait, Ana, did you… _tell him_?"

"No, I don't think so. I need to get out of here. Where are you, Scarlet?" I looked around for my clothes. Running probably wasn't the best idea. Christian would find me again sometime during my stay at the resort, and I couldn't exactly just catch a flight back to JFK. But I didn't care. I wanted out of this hotel room as soon as possible.

"Just left the spa. We'll meet for food, okay? That café by the water," Scarlet told me, and I nodded, finding my dress from last night. It was wrinkled and smelled vaguely of whiskey. Damn, I did drink a lot.

"Okay, yeah, I'll be there in half an hour…" I hung up, and before I could even start to get dressed, Christian entered the room.

"Taylor got you clothes. I assumed you wouldn't want to walk around like that," he motioned towards my dress, "You did look fantastic in it though," he smirked, and I instinctively blushed.

It had been pretty short…

"Oh, thank you," I murmured as Christian brought out the clothes. Taylor really was good at that… I wondered how many other girls Taylor had shopped for, and the thought made me uncomfortable.

"I hope you're staying for breakfast. After last night, you should really eat," Christian seemed concerned, and I shrugged awkwardly. Oh how I wanted to stay for breakfast. I wanted to reconcile, to go right back to Escala, and to be with Christian again. But things were so different now. I couldn't do that anymore.

"My friend, Scarlet, and I planned to get breakfast together. Since I left her last night, I really should make it to this breakfast," I walked towards the clothes, hoping Christian would accept my pathetic excuse to leave.

"I'd really like to talk to you, Anastasia. Maybe I could come along or meet you for dinner. It has been a long time," Christian asked.

I shrugged idly, struggling not to bite my lower lip.

"Maybe dinner. I'll see what Scarlet's plans are, and I will call you about it," I swallowed.

Christian stared at me as if considering it. We both knew I wasn't going to call. I couldn't start this relationship again. Things had changed too much, and I needed to just go back to New York and live my normal life.

"Last night, you said you missed me," Christian's voice was small as if he was afraid of saying it. My heart broke, and my first instinct was to make him better, make him happier. I closed my eyes, bowing my head.

"I did-I _do_. Things are complicated," I slowly opened my eyes.

"Then why did you leave me? You could have just used a _safeword!_"

"It wasn't about the _safeword!_ It wasn't about the pain. It was that _you_ hurt me. _You_ need to do that, and I_ can't_ be that girl. I wish I could have," I bit my lower lip hard. There was silence.

"Don't bite that lip," he whispered, and my eyes moved back to him.

Fuck, I wished _he_ was biting it.

"Come to dinner with me, please. We need to talk. I'll pick you up tomorrow night at seven," Christian pressed his lips to mine gently, and instinctively, my body melted against his. He smiled against my lips and winked before leaving me alone in his hotel room.

_Fuck._

* * *

"Well? Are you going?" Scarlet stared at me as she dumped four packets of Splenda into her green tea.

Even hungover, my friend looked fantastic. Of course, I guess that made sense. After all, she'd married three of the wealthiest tycoons in the country and convinced them that pre-nuptial agreements were useless.

Scarlet's sandy blonde hair was permanently in a soft blowout that framed her angular face. Her lips were plump and always shiny, and her nose had inspired multiple nose jobs in Manhattan. Her body had been sculpted by a talented personal trainer, and her eyes were emerald green. But most importantly, she had an impressive amount of self-confidence.

When I first met Scarlet, I was intimidated by her. She was so beautiful, so confident, and so successful. I'd met her on my first day at Lewis Publishing. Technically, Scarlet was my boss, but we'd grown so close that we both often forgot it.

Her second husband, Gregory Lewis III, was the head of a publishing dynasty. In their very nasty divorce, Scarlet threatened to expose pictures with him and two young models, and Gregory grudgingly gave her the publishing company. I worked for one of the subsidiaries in Atlanta, and I was promoted to the New York office. There, Scarlet took me under her wing, and we became best friends. Though I'd tried to talk her out of it, she promoted me to vice president of the company last year, and I'd surprisingly done well.

"No, of course not!" I shook my head as I picked at my pancakes.

"Why not? You're still completely in love with him," Scarlet took a sip of her tea, and she stared at me as if it was actually a valid suggestion, and I returned her stare incredulously.

"Scarlet Davidson, you _know _why!"

"Firstly, the papers have gone through. I am Scarlet _Rhodes_ again," Scarlet waved her hand dismissively, "And, secondly, we both know you could _just tell him_. In fact, you _should_ tell him. He_ deserves_ to know."

I stared at Scarlet, raising my eyebrows.

"Are you serious? A year ago, you said I was doing the best thing," I crossed my arms, angrily. I wanted Scarlet to be on my side.

"Yeah, and I _thought _you were. But he's changed. You said so yourself."

"I don't _know_ that. Anyone can put on a show for a few minutes in front of an ex," I frowned, but I doubted what I was seeing. Christian seemed different, better even.

"Listen, it is your choice, but I think you should tell him. This affects him, too," Scarlet shrugged, and my frown deepened.

I missed when Scarlet just told me I was right…

"I forgot to call Theo last night. I should probably call him soon," I changed the subject, and Scarlet nodded.

"Tell him I said hello," Scarlet raised her hand to catch the waitress's attention, "I can't deal with this hangover any longer. I need a hair of the dog that bit me. I'm getting us mimosas."

* * *

**Honestly, this is a large departure from what I've written before, and I hope you like it. Please review and follow this story!**

**What do you think Anastasia's secret is?**


	2. Fifty Shades of Old Friends

_**Fifty Shades of Secrets**_

**Chapter Two: Fifty Shades of Old Friends **

* * *

**Anastasia Steele,**

"I've been through _three_ divorces. I know much more than this bitch," Scarlet whispered in my ear.

When the paperwork was finalized for Scarlet's divorce, I found her in her office drinking a bottle of Champagne and crying while she looked at her wedding pictures. Even if she wouldn't admit it, she was hurt. The first two divorces were _very _planned, but the divorce with Evan Davidson was a surprise spurred by catching him with his personal assistant.

I wanted to make my friend feel better, so I found this resort that offered an extensive course for "Moving On" involving yoga, massages, and the occasional lecture.

Naturally, Scarlet _hated_ it, but I told myself she was learning.

"Yeah, but _two_ of those divorces were planned. This was the surprise one," I whispered back at her, watching as a woman in her mid-forties went on about how we can forget love.

I wished that were true.

I couldn't forget Christian Grey, no matter how hard I tried. It had been three years, and I loved him just as much as the day I walked out on him. Then again, I was surrounded by reminders of him.

Particularly after this morning.

Luckily, I hadn't run into him after waking up in his room, and I hoped that I could end this trip without ever seeing his gorgeous face again. Then, I could just go home to Theo and be normal again.

"But I got multiple properties and half of that asshole's bank account," Scarlet waved her hand as if that made up for being cheated on, "Besides, I got custody of Wini, and that's what matters. Once my private eye found those pictures from that _'business trip'_, getting custody was a breeze. I even got the place in Aspens as part of the deal to keep quiet."

Scarlet's daughter, Winifred Rhodes-Davidson, was Scarlet's only child, and it was for her that Scarlet worked hard. Reporters constantly slammed Scarlet as a gold digger using sex and wedding bands to make millions, and upon the birth of Wini, Scarlet wanted her daughter to have a better mother than a gold digger.

"You hate snow," I smirked.

"But Evan _loves skiing,_" Scarlet winked at me, "And I know he hates that place I bought in Mexico. So, I left that with him."

I rolled my eyes, and Scarlet shrugged her shoulders.

"I want Wini to learn to ski though, and it is better to start early. We should go up next weekend. Screw work. You work too much," Scarlet pouted, and I shook my head.

"It is a miracle your company is doing so well," I teased.

"No, it isn't. I hire _fantastic _people, like you. But you should come with me! If you don't, I might try to seduce one of my neighbors…" she laughed, "You know, there is this really hot neighbor of mine I've want to get to know."

"You do _not_ need another marriage. Before you know it, you'll be my mother," I crossed my arms.

"It is not for me. It is for you!" Scarlet smirked, "A lovely _Mr. Christian Grey_ owns the home next to mine."

I made a face, "That is not funny, Scarlet Rhodes."

"Oh, but it _is_ very funny, Anastasia Steele," Scarlet got up despite the lecture still going on, and she pulled on my arm to leave. I shot an embarrassed and apologetic smile to the speaker before following Scarlet out of the door.

Scarlet lead me out to the beach, and I almost flinched from the bright light. It was so sunny here…

The warmth was a welcome relief after spending my winter in New York, and I could already see the difference of one week in the sun on my usually pale skin. The gentle surf was inviting, and I suddenly understood why Scarlet wanted to spend all day in a cabana on the beach.

"We're not going to listen to one more _Pretend-You-Never-Loved-Him-Because-You'll-Be-Happy-Again_ speech. Instead, we're going to the beach where we can actually be happy. I saw your bathing suits, and I've decided we're going shopping for something less _Soccer-Mom_y," Scarlet teased, and we started to walk to the nearest boutique boosting sexy swimsuits and much less sexy prices.

I felt in my pocket for my credit card and relaxed when I felt the familiar plastic.

Scarlet paid me a ridiculous salary, especially considering I was under thirty years old, and despite having a nice salary for the last two years, I wasn't used to having money yet.

"My bathing suits are not _Soccer-Mom_y," I huffed, and Scarlet laughed.

"You're twenty four-" Scarlet started.

"I'm _almost_ twenty five," I pointed out.

"Well, for right now, you are _twenty four_, and you need to act like it. You're beautiful, and you should show it off," Scarlet flipped through the racks, picking out a classic black bikini for herself and a bright red one for me. I blushed at the thought of wearing it.

_What would Christian think about me in this?_

I couldn't decide if he'd like it or be angry at me for wearing it.

Within a few minutes, Scarlet had filled my arms with overpriced bikinis and shoved me towards a dressing room where I struggled in and out of various bathing suits. Naturally, Scarlet forced me to model the bathing suits despite my cheeks growing red with each stare from passing costumers. After a little while, I stopped looking at the people entirely and kept my eyes glued to the floor until I was back in the safety of the dressing room.

The last bikini I tried on was least revealing and the one I liked the best. I stepped out to Scarlet's praises. Even for Scarlet, they were a bit over the top, especially when she complained that the company personal trainer (yes, she had instated a _company_ personal trainer and a gym at the office) wasn't nearly as effective on her. She must have really wanted me to buy it, and I was vaguely suspicious of why I needed to have a sexy bathing suit anyway.

"So, are you going to get it?" Scarlet probed as I adjusted the straps of the top, and I shrugged as I stared at myself in the mirror. "Well, you _better_, Ana. I'm going to get a dress tonight. I'm taking you out tonight, and you need something borderline slutty," Scarlet smirked before leaving me alone in front of the mirrors.

I couldn't help but imagine Christian seeing me in this, and I even worked up an entire fantasy about him seeing me on the beach and staring at me in awe. When I snapped myself out of the fantasy, I looked at my reflection again and noticed a familiar face standing outside of the dressing area.

_Shit. Mia Grey_.

As I stood there in panic, I remembered that Christian told me he was here with his family, but it had never crossed my mind that I would see them, too.

Mia was just as beautiful as I remembered. Her long frame was lean and packed with curves that were shown off in her white wrap dress, and her black bob had grown to rest on the line of her jaw. As she slid her Prada sunglasses off the bridge of her nose, her eyes caught mine, and I paled.

_Maybe she doesn't remember me. She only met me once, and that was three years ago. _

But I could tell she recognized me. Instantaneously, she forgot whatever she'd been looking at and broke out in a friendly wave. Before I could disappear back into the dressing room, Mia was already calling out my name and walking towards me at an impressive speed for someone in platform sandals.

I knew that, even if I was rude enough to ignore her and change, I'd run into her on the way out. This awkward situation was destined to happen, and it was better to get it over with.

I turned around casually and waved, resisting the urge to hide my exposed skin.

"Mia, hey!" I tried to match her exuberance and failed, but Mia was so excited to see me that it didn't face her.

"Ana, it's been so long. You look _fantastic! _You _have _to buy that!" Mia wrapped her arms around me, and I hugged her back quickly.

"You do, too! I love your hair," I smiled at her.

No matter how it ended with Christian, Mia was lovely. I was convinced that, if things had worked out with Christian, Mia and I would have been good friends. I idly wondered if Kate was close to Mia. Maybe they were so close that Mia replaced me…

"Where have you _been_? Kate and I were trying to find you to be a bridesmaid-" Mia stopped as if she'd said too much and giggled, "I probably shouldn't have said that. I'm sure Kate wants to tell you herself."

"Oh, I already knew," I admitted to make Mia feel better, "Christian already told me that Elliott and Kate are engaged. That's great for them."

Mia tilted her head, and her eyebrows momentarily knit together.

_He hadn't told them that he'd seen me…_

My body filled with embarrassment, and a million thoughts ran through my mind. Why hadn't Christian told them? Was he with someone? Was he embarrassed that his sort-of-ex-girlfriend called him drunk and that he had to pick her up? Maybe he didn't want me to get involved with his family again.

"You've spoken to Christian?" Mia repeated slowly, and I could see an excitement behind her eyes as if she was already planning her other brother's wedding with me as the blushing bride.

"Oh… yeah. Briefly. I, um, ran into him here," I waved it off, hoping I seemed nonchalant about it all.

Mia smirked and gave me the look of someone who had just figured out her best friend's crush in class, and my stomach lurched. I wanted to avoid Christian for the rest of my trip, but I now saw that Mia would try to do the opposite.

"Well, that's great! Now that I see you're not avoiding Christian, you should visit me in Seattle. Even though it didn't work out, I'd love it if we could keep in touch. I own this fantastic restaurant downtown, and you'd love it," Mia quickly fished out a card from her purse and handed it to me, "And you simply _must_ come to the wedding in June."

"I'm rarely in Seattle, Mia," I laughed awkwardly, and she pouted so much that I decided to go just go with it. After all, people gave empty promises all the time, "I guess I can try…."

"Great! I promise, when you taste my food, you'll visit so much more," Mia grinned, "Speaking of food, you need to come out to dinner with me tomorrow night. It'll just be me, Mom, and Kate. Since you're the only girl Christian has brought home, you basically count as one of the _Grey Girls_. We'd all love to see you."

_I was the only one he brought home?_

I tried to remind myself it didn't prove anything. After all, there had been fifteen before me that never got to meet his mother. There could easily be another fifteen after me to have the same fate.

But it warmed me knowing that I had earned a place in his life. I was remarkable from the other girls because I'd gotten to meet his family. He may not have actually _wanted_ to introduce me to them, but he did it anyway. I was the only girl that Mia could place with Christian, and it was nice…

"Um, I'll think about it. But for right now, I should probably change," I blushed, and Mia nodded happily.

"Oh sure. I'll meet you by the shoes. There are some platform sandals calling my name," Mia gave me a quick and somewhat awkward hug before leaving me to change.

Was I going to run into every Grey family member? Who was next? His mother? Maybe his older brother or his fiancé?

Kate was at the resort, and I hadn't spoken to her. After four years of living with her, I felt guilty for the last three years without contact. She has to hate me, but I didn't want to involve her. She was riding off into her fairy tale ending with Elliott, and I was flying straight into the storm.

I felt more comfortable to be back in my shorts and button-up shirt. I felt more like the new Anastasia. The one that had grown up. The one who lived in New York and had a completely separate lives from the Grey family.

As I walked towards the shoes, I tried to remind myself of my life now.

_You have a fantastic condo in New York. You have your dream job. You're not a child anymore. And you have completely _moved on _from Christian Grey…_

"Ana, guess who I just met?" Scarlet snapped me out of my thoughts. She was sitting next to Mia as they both tried on a pair of super high, overly expensive high heels.

"Your friend is lovely!" Mia giggled as she admired her foot in the shoe.

"Mia has invited us to go hang out in their cabana on the beach before dinner. Isn't that fantastic?" Scarlet's eyes were wicked, and my face dropped.

* * *

Luckily, the majority of the Greys were using today to relax after the stressful preparations for Elliott and Kate's upcoming wedding, and they were at a winery an hour away. I hoped that their excursion would last all day, but Mia happily assured me that they would be back "any moment."

After shopping for an hour or two, Scarlet and Mia forced me to go to the Grey cabana with them, and nothing I'd done had secured me their permission to go back to the hotel room. I'd even pretended to be miserable with my hangover, and Scarlet just sent me out of the sun to hide in the cabana. I was tempted to just leave, but I was sure Scarlet would find an even worse way to get even with me if I did.

I couldn't believe that my relaxing vacation turned out to be like _this_.

I was more stressed on this vacation than I was at work. If I just hadn't gotten drunk and called Christian, I wouldn't have even known he was here. I could have gone on with my life and not had to face him.

I idly checked my phone to see the proof of my drunken call.

_Damn, I'd called him four times last night…_

I must have been determined to tell him.

Why did that happen? Until last night, I'd never made any effort to tell Christian anything. I hadn't even _spoken_ to him after I left Escala. Naturally, it crossed my mind, but I never planned on doing it.

"Well, hello, Miss Steele."

I dropped my phone on a stack of towels in surprise at the sudden voice, and my eyes shot to see the source standing by the entrance of the cabana.

_Fuck, Christian looks even hotter than three years ago_.

My mouth went dry, and I simply stared at him, unable to form words. Christian smirked slowly and came up to me, slowly taking the Bloody Mary out of my hand.

"I thought we'd agreed you wouldn't drink," he reminded me, and I squirmed under his disapproving gaze.

"We agreed I wouldn't drink _like that_," I put my hands on my hips.

Christian's jaw tightened, but he seemed to let it go as he brought the drink to his lips.

"Miss Steele-" he began.

"You know my name is Anastasia."

Christian seemed almost amused, "_Anastasia_, I'm starting to think you're following me."

"I am _not_. I ran into your sister, and she insisted I come to the beach with her," I crossed my arms defensively. I definitely was not _trying_ to see Christian this much.

"Oh? You saw Mia?" he smiled, raising an eyebrow. It was almost annoying that he was enjoying this. I certainly wasn't.

"Yes, I _saw _Mia. And she said _you _were at the winery."

"Ah, I was planning on it, but they were leaving early this morning. And I was worried about you this morning. Besides, I planned on talking to you," Christian seemed vaguely annoyed I had shied away from talking to him this morning, "You are coming to dinner tomorrow night, aren't you?"

"No, I am _not_ going to dinner with you."

"Why?" Christian seemed hurt.

"Because…" I lost my nerve looking in his beautiful grey eyes, "Mia invited me to have dinner with her tomorrow night."

"You'd rather go to dinner with Mia than me?" Christian raised his eyebrows.

"Yes," I crossed my arms, and Christian's eyes briefly moved to my bikini where I realized I was pushing my cleavage together. I quickly moved my hands back to my side as he looked back up at me.

"Anastasia, I really want to talk to you tomorrow night," Christian's voice was a bit more forceful.

"Which is why I don't want to go," I admitted.

"Last night, you wanted to tell me something important. What was it?" Christian urged me.

"I don't even remember _calling you_. How am I supposed to remember that?" I tried, but I knew exactly what it was. There really only was one thing it could be.

"I've been trying to talk to you since you left me!" Christian was definitely upset now, "I sent you those flowers. Damn, I even wrote _a fucking card_ with them myself. I tried to email you about taking you to Jose's show, but you never answered. When I looked into it, you'd quit already. I called Kate, and she said you'd just up and left. What the fuck happened, Anastasia?"

Damn it. I felt like I was going to cry.

I knew about the flowers. But I'd never known about the email. I was too far gone from SIP to ever receive it.

"It's _complicated_."

"We have a lot of time," Christian's voice was hard, and I swallowed nervously.

"My job just didn't work out, okay? And I didn't really like Seattle. So, I moved. People do that. For fuck's sake, I was fresh out of college. Everybody moves around after college," I whisper-hissed, hoping this conversation would just end.

"Your job didn't work out? Explain."

My eyes were now watering, and I looked away from Christian.

"My boss was an asshole, okay?" my tone was agitated.

"_How?!_"

I opened my mouth, prepared to spill my guts about Jack Hyde, but before I could, Mia's giggle interrupted us.

I moved away from Christian just in time for Mia and Scarlet to return from the surf, and she grinned widely at her brother. "Christian, hey!"

Christian glanced at me momentarily, obviously disappointed that we hadn't talked like he wanted, but he smiled warmly at his sister.

"Hey, Mia."

* * *

**I am so happy about the fantastic feedback I've gotten about this story, and I am very excited to continue it. Please review this chapter! I think that this chapter showed Ana being a bit feistier, and she's getting pretty close to telling Christian everything. **


	3. Fifty Shades of Dinner with the Family

_**Fifty Shades of Secrets**_

**Chapter Three: Fifty Shades of Dinner with the Family**

* * *

**Anastasia Steele, **

"You're _going_," Scarlet stared at me, and suddenly, I understood most of the office feared her.

Scarlet's stare was so intense that it practically burned my skin. Her arms were crossed across her chest in manner that vaguely made me feel like an errant child waiting for punishment, and her four inch heels only emphasized our height difference, allowing her to truly look down at me.

I squirmed beneath her harsh gaze, and I avoided looking at her as I sat down on my bed.

Typically, I would have succumbed to this intimidation and just gone to dinner, but I couldn't do that.

I'd seen Christian Grey too much for one day.

After I'd rejected his dinner invitation for tomorrow night, Christian suggested to Mia that we all have dinner at her friend's new restaurant in town. Naturally, Mia jumped on it and even extended the gathering to include all of the Grey family members at the resort. I'd been backed into a corner to say yes, so I agreed, thinking I could get out of it last minute.

But Scarlet was showing no mercy.

"No, I am _not_ going. You can go. I'm sure Mia would be fine with it. She loves you already," I reached for the remote, and Scarlet's eyes narrowed.

"She invited _you_, and _you _said yes. She was looking forward to it. You're acting like a child, Anastasia," Scarlet shook her head and went to my closet.

"I am not acting like a child! I am exercising my right as an adult to do what I want," I started to flip through the channels. As Scarlet returned from my closet, she turned off the television and shoved a tight blue dress at me. As I took it in my hands, I didn't remember buying it today.

"No, you are afraid, and you're just avoiding conflict. You knew you couldn't hide this forever," Scarlet rambled through the shopping bag from where we met Mia, and Scarlet retrieved a pair of black four inch heels I knew I _definitely_ didn't buy.

"I'm sick," I crossed my arms on my stomach and doubled over, adding a cough for dramatic effect.

Before I could dodge her, Scarlet's smooth, freshly-moisturized hand was pressed to my forehead, and a small smirk tugged on her lips, "You're _cold_. No fever."

"I have the chills," I added defensively, and Scarlet rolled her eyes as she shoved the high heels at me.

"Listen, Christian Grey is _here_. And now, he knows that you are here. He's going to keep running into you. Would you rather go to dinner with him or him show up at your door?" Scarlet raised an eyebrow.

"Neither," I mumbled.

Scarlet groaned, rubbing her forehead.

"What are you planning to do? Hide in your hotel room until we go home?"

"Yes, actually, I _am,_" I shoved the high heels away from me.

"Alright then, maybe he'll show up in New York," Scarlet stared at me, and I paled.

_Fuck, that would be so much worse. _

"Fine. I'll go," my voice was passive-aggressive as I stood up, and I made sure to pout as I grabbed the dress and high heels. I even added a slam of the bathroom door to demonstrate my unhappiness.

As I got ready, I tried to tell myself it was just dinner. I was doing it just to get along and protect my interests. Maybe if I rejected him enough tonight, he would give up, and everything could go back to normal.

But in all honesty, I couldn't imagine rejecting him. It killed me to leave three years ago, and I wasn't sure that I could do it again even if I needed to.

I used getting ready as a distraction from my thoughts, and I attempted to use that as an excuse as to why I was making such an effort in my appearance. But who the hell was I kidding?

I wanted to be hot in front of Christian Grey.

"Hey," Scarlet walked into the bathroom, making me jump, and the barrel of my curling iron nearly burned my cheek making me jump and drop it to the bathroom vanity. Scarlet smirked, raising an eyebrow, "You look pretty fantastic for a girl who didn't want to go in the first place."

"Thanks," I grumbled, looking away in hopes she wouldn't see the blush creeping onto my cheeks.

"We're going to be late," Scarlet leaned in, applying a fresh layer of ruby red lipstick to her plump lips, "I know you're trying to look sexy for your ex, but you're taking forever."

"I am not," I huffed, "And we weren't really dating either, so he's not an ex…" I turned off the curling iron and straightened my dress. With it on, I remembered trying it on to appease Mia, but I certainly didn't remember buying it. Mia or Scarlet must have bought it for me.

"Right, I forgot. He wasn't really your ex-boyfriend. He was just a guy you used to have a lot of sex with and never got over," Scarlet shrugged, and my jaw dropped as I processed her bluntness.

She certainly wasn't _wrong_, but it felt like so much more. Despite everything, I really did love Christian Grey, and I liked to think that in his own, "Dominate" way, he loved me, too.

Then again, he probably loved all of the subs in that way…

I grimaced at the idea and shook my head.

"It's complicated," I muttered, "Let's go. You said we're going to be late…" I adjusted the strap on my heels and walked out of the hotel room. With my speed significantly hindered by the height of my shoes, it didn't take long for Scarlet to not only catch up with me but reach the valet before me.

As Scarlet drove to the restaurant, I tried to decide if her bad driving was due to inexperience after living in Manhattan for so long or if she was a born speed demon. I muttered a prayer under my breath and held onto my seatbelt for dear life until Scarlet slammed her foot on the brake, stopping us with a violent jolt in front of a trendy restaurant downtown.

"Stop making that face," Scarlet adjusted her hair in the rearview mirror and turned off the car, "You're not even injured. And we're not late. Win-Win."

I was still trying to catch my breath when Scarlet handed the terried valet our keys and calmly strutted into the restaurant with her arm hooked through mine. I scanned the large, industrial space and froze when I caught the gaze of Christian Grey.

_Fuck, he looks pissed_.

I squirmed and bit my lower lip, trying to figure out a way to get out of here. I should have just broken my damn ankle outside on these stupid shoes. It would have been more enjoyable than what I was about to go through.

"Ana! Scarlet!" Mia's excited voice stood out in the crowd, and she weaved her way to us. Before I knew it, Mia's arms were wrapped around the two of us, and I nearly winced from how tight the hug was.

"Hey, Mia," I did my best to wiggle out of Mia's firm embrace and maintain a warm smile.

"I'm so glad you came! I was worried you wouldn't!" Mia laughed, obviously relieved, "Come on. Our table is going to be a little while longer. Come hang out with Christian and me at the bar. Their signature drink here is fantastic!" Mia seemed eager to make us both happy, and in that way, I felt bad for her. She really was trying, and I was just rejecting her because of her brother.

Before I could truly make a mental note to be nicer tonight, I was beneath Christian's icy scowl. Noticing his demeanor, Mia and Scarlet stood a bit away and exchanged compliments.

They were practically feeding me to the wolves.

"Hello, Christian," I hoped my civil tone would deter his anger, but it nothing of the sort.

"I saw you pull up," Christian's jaw was tight, and I timidly met his stare, "That reckless. You easily could have been in an accident."

I had been just as terrified in the car when she was driving, and I knew there was no way I would allow her to drive us back. But I wanted to stand strong in front of Christian. I was an adult woman who didn't need him to look after her.

"I wasn't driving. Scarlet was. It was her car, and she is an adult who can make her own choices. Besides, I'm fine. She's fine, and the car seems fine," I crossed my arms, doing my best to mimic his expression.

Christian pursed his lips, and I could tell that he was weighing his options. Finally, a grin spread across his lips, and I knew he was picking his battles.

He really _had_ changed in the last three years.

"I'm so glad you decided to come tonight, Miss Steele. I expect that we will finally talk after dinner." As Christian looked at me, I felt more like a business deal than an ex-almost-sub-almost-girlfriend, and it pissed me off.

_Good._ When I was angry at him, I was less likely to succumb to his charm and overpowering sex appeal. I _wanted_ to be angry with him, and I wanted to make sure he knew it.

"You can _expect_ whatever you want, Mr. Grey. But I hardly think I owe you said conversation just for calling you drunk last night," I firmly stood my ground, and Christian shot me an unreadable stare that slowly wore on my resolve.

"We'll talk later-" Christian began, but he was cut off by a familiar laugh.

"Are we finally getting Christian a date for the wedding so he doesn't appear so '_forever alone'_ in front of the guests?" Kate's voice was just as strong and confident as ever, and Christian looked even more annoyed with her than he was with me.

_Kate._ I'd honestly forgotten about meeting Kate tonight. I'd been so concerned with spending an entire evening with Christian Grey that I forgot about the woman who was marrying into his family this June. My heart starting racing, and I felt like a deer in headlights as I turned around to prove my suspicions right.

Katherine Kavanaugh was standing before looking more beautiful than I'd even seen her. But more importantly, she was more quiet than I'd ever heard her when her eyes widened with recognition.

For what felt like an eternity, Kate just _stared _ at me, and it terrified me.

I wanted her to be happy and laugh or to be angry and scream. I wanted her to do something -_anything_\- other than quietly stare at me like I was a ghost she never expected to see.

After I left, I'd imagined seeing Kate again. Of course, I'd hoped she was completely uninvolved with the Grey family and could be friends with me without Christian noticing. I'd expected us both to cry and hug and tell our grand tales of our lives in the last three years. Right now, I would have even settled for Kate screaming for me to leave and refusing to see me after I what I'd done. I just wanted her to react to me in some way.

"Ana?" Kate finally asked, her voice hardly above a whisper.

I nodded slowly, "Hey, Kate."

A slow smile spread across Kate's lips, and I swear her eyes even started watering as she practically tackled me in a hug.

Did Kate _cry_ now?

"Oh my God, I've missed you so much," Kate laughed in my ear, and suddenly, she pulled back just enough to stare at me coldly, "Where the _fuck_ have you been? I've been looking for you for three years. I've called your mom a million times and Ray even more than that, and José got so annoyed with me asking about you that he won't even speak to me!"

_Oh…_

My face fell as I faltered for words. My first reaction was to tell her everything, but I knew I couldn't do that with Christian Grey less than a foot away from me. No, I needed to find a way to satisfy one of Kate's inquest without really telling her much of anything.

"I'm so sorry. I really am. I wanted to call you, but everything got so busy. Time just flew. I hope you can forgive me," I genuinely begged her for forgiveness, and I took a deep breath, "I've just been moving around. You know, I was young, and after my job didn't really work out, I just wanted to try new things."

"Your job didn't work out? But you were so excited about it in your emails," Kate tilted her head with a combination of curiosity and friendly concern.

"It's complicated…" I trailed off, biting my lower lip.

"It's complicated?" Kate repeated, "And everything got so busy?" Kate's eyebrow raised, and I nearly trembled as I prepared for Kate to bitch me out, "You're not telling me anything. What was so damn busy?"

I couldn't do this. I wanted to cry or run away or both. In fact, both sounded pretty nice…

"That might be my fault," Scarlet stepped in, offering Kate a cordial handshake, "I'm Ana's boss, and I've honestly been working her too hard. She's so good at her job that she just never stops working, right, Ana?" Scarlet looked back at me, and I gave her a relieved smile.

"Yes, I never stop working. Eat, Work, Sleep, Repeat," I nodded to Kate.

"What do you do now?" Kate asked, and before I could answer, Scarlet already had her mouth open.

"She's vice president of Rhodes Publishing," Scarlet put her hand on my shoulder as she bragged on me, and Kate's eyes widened with pride.

"Really?" Kate's anger was momentarily forgotten, and I sighed with relief.

"Yes, really."

Kate leaned in to hug me, and this time it was one of Kate's typical hugs. In a lot of ways, it was amusingly awful to hug her. She always squeezed too tight, and I ended up with a face full of her perfect, blonde blowout. But I loved it anyway.

I had my friend back, and it was perfect.

As Christian stepped towards Scarlet and began discussing the publishing business, Kate pulled me off and sat beside me at the bar, ordering champagne to toast to being reunited at last.

"I can't believe you're really here," Kate laughed as she sipped her drink, and she reached for my hand, squeezing it, "So much has happened while you were gone."

"I know," I smiled back at her, "Christian told me you were engaged to Elliott. Congratulations."

"Christian told you?" Kate couldn't focus on her curiosity as she looked at her large engagement ring, "It's amazing, right? Elliott is so wonderful. He just… calms me down, I guess," Kate laughed, and she even seemed _giddy_, "The wedding is in June. Please tell me you'll come. I always wanted you to be there, and if you say yes now, I still have time to order a bridesmaid's dress…"

"Well-" I began, nervously pushing my hair behind my ear.

"Ana, please," Kate begged, jutting out her lower lip in a pout, "I could always guilt you into it… Come on, the food'll be amazing," Kate winked at me.

I rolled my eyes, playfully shaking my head, "Alright, but the dress better not be_ too_ ugly."

Kate nearly giggled as she hugged me again, "It's not, I promise. Mia wouldn't have stood for it," Kate beamed back at me, "I'm so glad you're here…. Why are you here, by the way? I know it's not to see _Christian_. He's the reason you ran away."

"Kate," I frowned, "He's-It isn't that simple," I shifted in my seat and quickly changed the subject, 'Mia invited me. She wanted me to see everyone."

"Of course she did," Kate laughed, rolling her eyes, "More like she wants to plan a wedding for Christian as soon as she's done with Elliott's."

* * *

Dinner was surprisingly wonderful.

The food was delicious, and the company was surprisingly enjoyable. Mr. and Mrs. Grey were eager to be friendly, and Mia and Kate were more than happy to fill me in on the details of the wedding. Mia even went as far to make me an appointment in town tomorrow to get my measurements professionally done so that the dress could be ordered as soon as possible.

I felt like I was back in the warmth of the Grey family, and I had to periodically remind myself that I was the ex who was going home to the east coast on Sunday morning. The only reason I would return to Seattle would be for Kate's wedding, and that was it. I would be back to my old life without Christian Grey.

"Anastasia, water," Christian motioned towards the glass of water beside my champagne flute.

"Why do I need to drink water?" I raised my eyebrows as I turned to look beside him. Naturally, Mia insisted on deciding where everyone would sit, and I was put beside Christian.

"You've been drinking all day, Anastasia, and I don't want to see you in that state tomorrow morning as well," Christian's voice was forceful yet quiet enough that I was the only one who could hear him.

It didn't _feel_ like I'd been drinking all day, but he was right. I'd had a mimosa with Scarlet this morning at breakfast and a bloody mary with Mia and Scarlet at the beach. Then there had been the two and a half glasses of champagne with dinner. Given the spacing between them, I should have been fine, but I was a notorious lightweight and could already feel everything go hazy.

"Fine, water," I reached for the glass and took a few sips, but Christian raised his eyebrow, silently urging me to have more. He was so controlling.

I finished half of the glass before resting it on the table.

"You've hardly spoken to me all night," Christian's voice had shifted to be caring once more.

"You haven't said much all night period," I murmured in response,

"You've made it very clear I'd be wasting my breath if I kept asking," Christian stared at me, and I looked down at my knotted fingers.

"There's nothing to tell you, Christian," I reached for the water again.

"Anastasia Steele, you are a terrible liar," Christian almost seemed to be laughing at me.

Before I could respond, Mia gasped, catching my attention. Her hand was over her heart, and a wide smile spread across her lips.

"Oh, she's beautiful, Scarlet. What's her name?" Mia stared at Scarlet's phone screen, and I knew that Scarlet was showing off her toddler, Wini.

"Thank you," Scarlet seemed delighted with the reaction, "Her name is Winifred, but everyone calls her Wini. Wini's with her nanny, and she's been sending pictures to show how much fun they're having."

"Look, Kate. I expect you and Elliott to give me a little niece just like this by next year,"Mia smirked playfully as she handed Scarlet's phone to Kate who looked embarrassed by the idea.

"Mia," Grace, Christian's mother, chastised her daughter, but Mia was hardly sorry.

As Kate took the phone, she gave the toddler in the photo the usual compliments, but her head tilted as she zoomed into the picture. And briefly, she seemed to look at me.

"This little boy in the background is precious. Do you know him?" Kate turned to Scarlet, and I felt my stomach drop. I knew exactly who she had to be talking about.

"Oh…" Scarlet paled momentarily, "I think that's Theodore. He is Wini's little friend. They have the same nanny. I thought it would be nice for Wini's socialization to have another child around."

"Theodore," Kate repeated, "He looks so familiar, doesn't he, Mia?"

Oh that wasn't fair.

Fuck, I felt like I was going to throw up, and I couldn't help but stare at Mia in fear she'd find Theodore just as familiar as Kate did.

"He does," Mia nodded quickly and looked at Scarlet, "Maybe I've met his parents. Before going to culinary school in Paris, I lived in New York City for a gap year. Who are they?"

"Well," Scarlet began, turning to me for assistance, "I feel so silly, and their names escape me right now. Do you remember, Anastasia? I think you've met them on occasion."

"Right… I think I have. Briefly. I think her name began with an A. Or maybe it was an E. But I do remember that she's relatively new to New York. Only a few years," I did my best to seem cool and collected, and everyone seemed to buy it. Except for Kate.

"It's alright. They're both so beautiful," Kate returned the phone to Scarlet who promptly put it back in her purse.

"Dinner was lovely, but I think that your father and I should get back. We're exhausted," Grace smiled tiredly at the table, and Carrick nodded his agreement.

"Kate and I were planning on going to the club a few blocks up. Scarlet, Ana, you should come with us," Mia smiled excitedly, and Scarlet quickly accepted the invitation, causing the entire table to look at me for my response.

My head started spinning just imagining going to the club with them. I'd already had too much to drink, and I couldn't risk getting drunk within a one hundred mile radius of Christian Grey again. Today had been long enough.

All I wanted to do was go back to my hotel room and sleep off the stress.

"I don't think so. Really, I just want to go back and sleep. I hardly slept last night," I smiled softly, and my cheeks flushed as Scarlet smirked at the last part.

"Ana, _please_, you have to come. You'll probably miss the bachelorette party, and it'll be so much fun. Please," Kate begged, and I shook my head slowly.

"Maybe another night," I tried, but I knew there was no way I was going out again after last night. What if I called Christian again and didn't pass out in time to avoid telling him everything?

Mia sighed dramatically but nodded her approval to me going home. As we all got up from the table, Scarlet handed the the card to give the valet for her car.

"Would you mind driving it back? I'll catch a ride with Mia and Kate," Scarlet explained, and before she could hand me the piece of paper, Christian stepped in.

"Miss Rhodes, I could drive it. My parents are riding with Taylor, and Ana, you've already been drinking. Would either of you mind me driving?" Christian suggested, and Scarlet happily handed him the card.

"Perfect. Thank you, Christian-Do you mind if I call you Christian? By the way, you should really call me Scarlet."

"Of course not, Scarlet. Have fun with Mia and Katherine."

"I will," Scarlet winked at me before walking with Mia to the ladies room, and Christian started towards the valet where he handed him the card and waited for Scarlet's rental.

As I was walking towards the car, an arm hooked through mine, and I jumped, turning to see Kate standing beside me with a wicked smile.

"You know, it's starting to make a bit more sense," Kate began, and my face paled.

"What is making a bit more sense?" I asked nervously, and Kate simply shrugged.

"Why you ran away," she explained as if it was obvious, "Now, my only question is where on earth you got the name Theodore."

I sucked in a gasp and nearly lost all strength in my knees.

"How did you know?" I whispered as if I was afraid Christian could magically hear me from outside the restaurant.

"Theodore is practically a clone of Christian just with your blue eyes," Kate matched my voice, and squeezed my hand, "It's okay. I won't tell him. I know the guy, and I'm sure you had your reasons to run away with Theodore."

I shook my head, "It isn't like that. Christian isn't as evil as you think he is. I just…" I trailed off.

"If he isn't that bad, why are you hiding his son from him?" Kate looked confused, and I honestly didn't have an answer to that.

"I…" I stopped, and Kate looked over my shoulder.

"He's coming. We'll talk about it tomorrow, alright? Maybe just you and I can get breakfast before the dress fitting," Kate suggested, and I nodded my head in agreement.

"That's sounds great," I smiled, and Kate hugged me quickly before going in search of Scarlet and Mia.

"Anastasia, are you ready?" Christian asked from behind me, and I turned around, reevaluating him for a moment.

Theodore really_ did_ look like him. I'd always avoided thinking about Christian, so I never truly noticed.

"Yeah, let's go…" I walked with Christian towards the sports car.

* * *

**I actually completed this chapter a few days ago, but my flash drive crashed with all of the data on it. I rewrote this, and I hope you enjoyed it. Honestly, I felt like the first part could have been better, but I had writer's block on how to reunite Kate and Ana.**

**Leave a review about what you thought about this chapter and what you think should happen next!**


	4. Fifty Shades of Interruptions

_**Fifty Shades of Secrets**_

**Chapter Four: Fifty Shades of Interruptions**

* * *

**Anastasia Steele, **

The ride back to the resort was uncomfortably long and silent.

Despite being typically driven by the very capable Taylor, Christian drove impeccably, and Scarlet's rental car was extremely luxurious. In theory, this moment should have been fantastic after the whirlwind of a day I'd had. Just three years ago, this situation would have been terrific. I would have even been _relaxed_.

But I was miserable.

I hadn't slept all day. My head was fuzzy after one too many glasses of champagne, and my feet ached after far too long in ridiculously tall high heels. I missed my son and the comforts of my home. I even missed the clamor of New York City keeping me up at night. My world was shaking beneath me, and I was a nervous wreck as I waited for it to collapse.

I'd built a life for myself in New York City with Theodore, far away from Seattle and Christian Grey. I wanted to take care of my baby boy and give him him the best life possible, and I did it. I'd worked my ass off to get a prominent and well-paying job, sacrificing countless hours of sleep. I lived in a toddler-friendly apartment, and I even hired a nanny who ensured that Theodore had the perfect amount of socialization for his development.

In New York, I blended into a sea of other people with secrets to keep. Everything I worked for had been so secure only a few days ago. And it just took one, _stupid, drunk _call to bring my house of cards down.

And was any of it worth it?

Was there any reason to hide Theodore other than my pride and embarrassment for going into such a dark _post-break-up_ depression that I forgot to take my birth control pill? I hadn't paid attention in sex ed and didn't realize that I could get pregnant three days after the last time I had sex with Christian. In fact, I was completely oblivious to this fact until I got that positive pregnancy test. I was such an idiot sometimes.

I closed my eyes tight, trying to ward off my thoughts.

The last twenty four hours had been the longest in my life, and I desperately wished that Christian would just floor it and let me go back to my room and sleep. I wanted today to end. I needed time to recoup.

Damn, I wished I could just run away again.

"You look unwell," Christian's voice was just above a whisper, but in the quiet car, it might as well have been a scream.

"I just drank too much, and I'm tired," I murmured, resting my head in my hands. I expected Christian to reprimand me. After all, he had warned me about alcohol this morning, and he'd suggested at the beach that I rest before going to dinner.

Naturally, I hadn't listened.

I never listened to him.

To my surprise, Christian just hushed again, and his driving was more careful as if not trying to jostle me around. I used this to my advantage to try to sleep.

Maybe if he saw how exhausted I was, he would drop all attempts of conversation tonight...

When we pulled up to the hotel, it was surprisingly still. The conversations within were muffled, and one quick glare from Christian muted the attractive valet. The valet took the key from Christian timidly, and before I could get out, Christian was politely opening the door and holding out his hand for me. I begrudgingly took it, and his arm wrapped protectively around my waist. I looked up at Christian and raised a sleepy eyebrow at his tight grasp.

"Anastasia, you're tired," Christian's voice was rather forceful, and he seemed to think that my exhaustion was justification when it certainly wasn't.

"Christian Grey, I am a grown woman who is _perfectly capable_ of walking," I tried to take a step, but as if on cue, I stumbled on my high heels and had to be caught by Christian. He smirked in response and tightened his grip.

_Fuck._ I avoided his stare and silently cursed my weak ankles.

As he led me to the elevator, I had to admit that his embrace was very comforting. The familiar scent of his cologne was soothing. My heavy head rested on his shoulder, and I instinctively moved my hands away from his chest. I didn't want him to pull away because I touched him…

I couldn't touch him.

In the rush of today, I'd forgotten this very crucial detail about Christian Grey. I was in love with a man who was repulsed by my touch without any explanation, and I had a feeling that understanding his fear of touch would only break my heart further.

"For such a 'capable woman,' you seem pretty comfortable," Christian whispered, unusually playful.

I rolled my eyes and suppressed my smile as we waited for the elevator. Once the elevator arrived and we were securely tucked inside, Christian immediately pressed the button for the eighth floor, and I let out a tired laugh.

"Flirting tip for future reference," I looked up at him, matching his playfulness, "You'd appear less creepy if you asked for the girl's floor before correctly pressing the button."

Christian's warm smile was blinding as he winked at me, and I could have been lost in the pure sexiness of his expression. It was rare to see Christian this happy, and I couldn't help but savor it.

"You think I'm flirting, Miss Steele?" Christian tilted his head innocently, and I blinked.

Who was this, and where the fuck was _Fifty Shades of Severity?_

"Yes, Mr. Grey. You are definitely _flirting_," my voice matched his, but I stared at my mercurial man, trying to understand what I'd done to earn Playful Christian.

I'd expected to spend this elevator ride with an annoyed dom who was disappointed in the decisions I'd made today, and instead, I'd been graced by the appearance of the carefree, happy Christian I loved so.

"You look confused, Anastasia," Christian's smile was slowly retreating, and I desperately wanted it back.

"You're so _playful_. I'm not used to it," I muttered, staring at his lips as they softened into their usual small frown.

Christian stared at me, making me squirm a bit in his grasp. I let out a sigh of relief when the elevator door dinged open, and Christian's attention shifted towards the task of getting me to my hotel room. He stopped two doors before mine and looked at me, the mirth in his grey eyes warming my body.

"Miss Steele, which one?" he motioned to the hallway, and I laughed softly as I pointed at my door.

"Much better, Christian," I nodded my head in approval, getting the key out of the small black purse Scarlet forced me to carry, and Christian released me to open the door.

I smiled at the sight of my bed, and I nearly collapsed when I reached it.

Christian had followed me into the room and immediately turned his attention to his blackberry. I'd given up asking for justification of his actions, and I focused my efforts on removing the _Heels of Hell_ from my feet.

I felt like a child as I struggled with the clasp on one of the straps. Yesterday, I was competent enough to walk myself up to my own bed and take off my own damn shoes, but one chance encounter with Christian Grey left me grumbling like a six year old who couldn't tie her own shoe laces. Damn it, I was going to cry.

When Christian was finished with the phone, he watched me with my shoe and was obviously amused, and he slowly took my ankle, undoing each buckle with impressive ease.

"Better?" Christian asked, his voice seductively smooth as his hand rested on my newly freed ankle, and just looking at him made me lose my voice. I nodded my head slowly and sat up in bed, suddenly wishing we were somewhere else. I didn't have the best track record with Christian on beds when I was sober, and being tipsy made it even easier for me to succumb to temptation.

Christian helped me out of the other shoe, briefly massaging the sore pads of my feet, and I twisted my mouth into silence.

_I am not going to moan. I am not going to moan,_ I repeated mentally.

"Would you like some tea?" Christian whispered comfortingly, obviously not nearly as hot and bothered as me.

I must have looked pathetic… After all, I did feel pretty damn pathetic.

"Chamomile, please," I murmured, wiping at my eyes, and Christian stood, leaving me on the bed to watch him. It took time for Christian to make the tea, and I used these precious moments of peace to compare Christian to our child, Theodore.

They had the same copper hair and strong jaw, and their angular noses were strikingly similar. I tried to imagine Christian as a two year old, but it was so hard. No matter much I tried, I couldn't imagine Christian Grey as an innocent, happy two year old running around in monkey pajamas like my baby boy at home, and I suddenly realized that Christian probably couldn't either. He'd lived that part of his life with the "Crack Whore."

All at once, I felt extreme sympathy and sorrow as I imagined a face so similar to that of my precious Theodore living in that hell.

"What were you and Katherine discussing?" Christian inquired as he carefully held out the cup of tea for me, and I swallowed hard.

"A little bit of everything," I murmured, "Her wedding mostly. She wants me to be a bridesmaid," I hoped that this answer would satisfy Christian. Of course, it didn't, so I hesitantly added, "She wanted to know more about why I left Seattle."

"It seems to be a popular question," Christian took a seat at the edge of my bed, and his intimidating grey eyes bore into mine as if imploring me to confess everything I'd hidden. And it was actually pretty damn effective.

"Why are you even asking me? Knowing you, you have someone looking into every aspect of my life," I grumbled.

Christian didn't even blink, "I called him after I picked you up at the bar. He's still compiling a report for me," his voice was professional and cold, and I nearly dropped the tea into my lap.

Of course he was going to find out. Who the hell was I kidding? He probably _already _knew.

And I didn't want him to learn about our child in some long report detailing my current address, place of employment, and marital status. He deserved to be _told_. He deserved the entire story, every last pathetic and embarrassing bit of it. And alas, I was the only one who could give that to him.

Fuck, I wanted to go to sleep right now, not explain the last three years of my life.

"I think we both know that it would be better if you told me," Christian added, and I nodded slowly in agreement, staring at the steam rising from my teacup.

"I don't know where to start…" I muttered, avoiding his intense gaze.

"Begin with why you left Seattle. I'm sure it'll come to you from there," Christian's voice slowly seemed to be growing in some unknown emotion, and I couldn't tell how much he already knew. Surely, he had hired someone to research me before. He must have known about Theodore.

I wished he did. It would have been so much easier to justify my actions afterwards than to explain them from the beginning.

"I didn't handle leaving you well," I admitted slowly, "I couldn't sleep. I couldn't eat. Even music made me horribly depressed. So, when I started working at SIP, I thought it was a great distraction. I got to work early and left late."

My lower lip was already trembling. I rarely thought of SIP, and I did my best to block Jack Hyde out of my memory. That sick _son of a bitch_.

"You didn't eat?" Christian interrupted me, and I frowned. I shouldn't have mentioned that.

"I did _eventually_…" I chewed on my lower lip.

"Anastasia," Christian began, clearly angry, and I stopped him.

"You didn't let me finish," I tried.

Christian's jaw tightened, and he was obviously pissed. But he straightened his spine and motioned for me to continue. I took a deep breath as I considered how to tell him about Jack Hyde. After three years, I still hadn't truly processed him and what happened that night at SIP.

"I think my boss interpreted my unusually dedicated schedule as…. I'm not entirely sure _what_ he thought," I frowned, squirming uncomfortably, "Jack Hyde always made me uncomfortable. He just _hovered_ and asked such personal questions. I knew there was something wrong, I really did. But I just ignored it…

"The night before José's show, I stayed later than usual. I didn't even realize it was only us, but Jack did," I shut my eyes tight, "He followed me to the break room and… _lunged _at me. It was just this awful blur, and I didn't think it through. I.. I broke the asshole's nose and bruised just about everywhere else," I emphasized every word, raking my fingers through my carefully styled hair.

Christian's expression softened, and his lips parted as if trying to find the right words. He must not have because he just murmured, "Anastasia," and pulled me into his protective embrace tighter than ever before, and I cried into his muscular shoulder.

I didn't deserve this sympathy, and I'm sure that, if he knew the rest of the story, he wouldn't have hugged me. He would have _killed _me.

I savored the warmth of his kindness as if it was the last time I would receive it, and in all honesty, it could have been. He would never forgive me for this. Hell, I wouldn't forgive me either. The thought of losing this Christian- truly and irrevocably losing the man that I loved- just made me sob even harder.

It took all of my strength and resolve to whisper, "There's a lot more, Christian."

Christian slowly moved away from me just enough that he could look into my eyes, and I instantly lost all of my nerve. As I sat there silently, Christian's fingers ran through my hair, and I had to close my eyes to finally form words.

"I didn't want to be alone after what happened with Jack, and I didn't have anyone in Seattle. So, I called my dad," I bit my lower lip, "I was going to come back when Kate got home, but… I was just so miserable in Seattle. It was nice being home, and I could just avoid all of my problems there-" I was cut off by the shrill chirp of my cell phone, and I grimaced.

That was a perfect mood killer.

I pulled away from Christian just enough to lunge for my purse and ignore the call without looking at the caller ID, and I tossed my phone on a nearby pillow to focus again on Christian.

"Well, I-" I began, but the call quickly returned.

Are you fucking serious?

With an apologetic smile, I snatched the source of my annoyance and glared at the contact name on my smartphone's screen.

Why would my assistant be calling me _now_? I'd given Curtis this week off and had specifically instructed him to relax and forget about work, and forgetting about work specifically entailed not calling the boss at eleven pm.

I angrily accepted the call and got off of the bed where I whisper-barked into the phone, "This better be important, Curtis."

Immediately, frantic mumbling came through the receiver, and I struggled to decipher his incoherence words.

"What? Curtis, I can't under-" I spoke a bit louder, earning Christian's stare.

"It's Essie. I was helping her tonight with Theo and Wini. I-I went to get Happy Meals, and when I came back," Curtis trailed off, obviously upset, and my stomach dropped.

_No, not my baby Theo. Not my precious baby Theo._

Instantly, my focus shifted. My son needed me, and I was thousands of miles away on vacation talking to his father about something I should have years ago. What if something was wrong? Could he be hurt? Oh God, what if something life threatening has happened? I should have put up more child locks...

Anxiety consumed me as I waited impatiently for Curtis to say something -_anything_. Finally, I couldn't handle it anymore and said, "Are they okay? Curtis, what the _fuck_ happened?" I struggled to hush my voice.

"I think so. The kids are at least. I don't know. Nobody will even tell me what happened. I can't go in because I'm not family, and they won't give me the kids because I'm not their father. I-I think Essie fell or something. Christ, do you think she's okay? Steele, what do I do?" Curtis nearly cried, and I could practically sense him pacing the floor.

_Shit. Fuck, _I mentally named off every curse word I had ever heard in my entire life, and my eyes watered with sheer panic.

This was the one vacation I had really taken. I was only going to be gone for a week, and I'd left my very capable nanny, Essie, with my child. Nothing was supposed to go wrong, yet everything did.

"I'm coming home, okay? I'll be in New York as soon as possible, I promise," I tried to calm us both, but this decision only made me more uncomfortable. At the minimum, I would have a flight scheduled for tomorrow morning, and even then, I would most likely face frequent layovers. At the earliest, I would arrive at the hospital tomorrow afternoon.

"How long do you think that will be?" Curtis implored, and I frowned.

"Probably tomorrow afternoon at the earliest. I'd need to find a last minute flight, and-" I was cut off by Christian's voice, and I jumped.

After hearing about Essie and the children, I'd completely forgotten about his presence.

Shit, had I said something incriminating? No, I was sure I hadn't.

"The Grey Jet is here. We can leave now," Christian offered, and my heart lept.

His jet. He had a jet. How the hell could I have forgotten that?

"You'd do that for me?" I murmured, completely oblivious to Curtis on the other line.

"Of course, Anastasia," Christian nodded to me, and if it was even possible, I loved him more in that moment than I ever had.

* * *

**So, Christian and Ana are going to New York, and she's trying to tell him about Theo! Where do you think it'll go from here? Please review and follow this story! **

**So much happened in this chapter, and I think it answered a lot of questions. Now, you can understand more of how this is an AU of **_**Fifty Shades Darker**_** because all of the changes can be traced back to Jack Hyde's attack being earlier in this story than it was in the actual book series. If you want a better explanation, go to my profile where I have a link to a blog post explaining it. **

**If you do have any more questions, leave a review, and I'll explain it more in the rest of the story or shoot you a PM! Thanks!**


	5. Fifty Shades of a Proposition

_**Fifty Shades of Secrets**_

**Chapter Five: Fifty Shades of a Proposition**

* * *

**Anastasia Steele, **

"No phones," Christian's eyes locked on mine, and I nearly trembled from the sheer intensity of his gaze. Hesitantly, I rested my phone face down on my lap, and Christian shook his head.

As this was the _third time_ he'd told me, I understood why he was getting angry at me. He'd told me to turn off my phone when we got on the plane, and we eventually settled on putting my phone on airplane mode. After about thirty minutes, I simply couldn't stand it and decided that, if I did it very briefly, it would be very innocent for me to check my cell phone just to see if Curtis or even Essie herself tried to contact me. Before I could even refresh my text messages, Christian caught me, and yet again, I promised to turn off my phone. I really did _try_ to keep it off after that.

But how the hell could I _not _check my phone?

For the last hour and a half, I'd been a nervous wreck. What if my baby boy was hurt, too? He didn't have anyone there to comfort him, and he was only _two_. What if Essie was seriously injured? She'd worked for me for nearly a year, and both Theodore and I had grown close to her. She was practically a member of the family. What if she couldn't work for a while? What could I do with Theodore when I was at work? Surely, I couldn't bring him along with me and still be productive.

Damn it, I _needed_ my phone. I needed contact with Curtis. I needed to know if Essie had woken up and given permission for Curtis to take charge of Theodore and Wini. I needed to know what was happening minute by minute, but I was isolated in flight.

"This is a rule you have to follow, Anastasia. Give me your phone," Christian leaned closer to me, his eyes blazing, and his strong hand was outstretched for my cell phone.

With a rather annoyed huff, I held my phone out for Christian and watched with horror as he put it away in his pocket.

"You look upset," Christian tilted his head as if worried about me, and I raked my fingers through my hair.

"I _look_ upset because I _am_ upset," I rolled my eyes, leaning back into my comfortable chair and crossing my arms against my chest.

"Because of the phone?"

"No-Yes," I felt flustered, "Partly," I finally settled.

Christian frowned, pursing his lips as if in thought. He looked as confused with me as I always felt with him. He was trying for me, and it was a warming thought.

Finally, he tilted his head and tentatively stared at me, and he asked me, "Would you like some tea?" he seemed hopeful that this would fix everything, and it reminded me distinctly of Ray.

"You sound like my step-father," I laughed softly, relieved to think of something happier. I loved Ray.

After I left Seattle, Ray let me move in with him temporarily, and it was exactly what I needed. Ray didn't ask me for a life plan. He didn't prod for details as to my sudden move from Seattle, and he didn't even mention Christian Grey. Instead, he took his baby girl fishing and offered her tea every time she felt emotional.

"I visited Ray. He said it was the best way to calm you down, to give you tea," Christian admitted, and my eyes widened.

He visited Ray? When? Why the hell didn't Ray mention this to me?

"You visited Ray?" I murmured in utter shock.

"Yes, I did. It was about six months after you moved away from Seattle. I was hoping you'd be there, but Ray said you'd moved away. He told me you didn't want to see me, and I stopped looking," Christian stared at me as if waiting for a reaction.

"You'd missed me by three months," I frowned as I tried to imagine my life if I'd stayed with Ray and been there when Christian showed up. Everything would have been different…

I wouldn't have been able to hide my pregnancy point at that point in my life, and I would have been forced to face the music. We would have figured it out together, and even if he was not involved in Theodore's life, it would have been resolved.

Christian nodded his head as if processing what I'd said, and he slowly stood, retrieving a bottle of champagne and two glasses, "In your state, I do believe this will be much more effective than tea," Christian smirked.

"What if I've decided to listen to you now about not drinking too much?" I smiled, raising my eyebrow, and Christian let out a warm chuckle.

"Ahh, Anastasia, it would certainly be a first," Christian gracefully opened the champagne and poured the perfect amount into a flute that he subsequently offered to me, and I took it, relaxing slowly.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, letting the champagne fully take control of me.

When I opened my eyes again, Christian was watching me as he enjoyed his own glass.

"Did you know I'd be in Puerto Rico?" I asked bluntly. I'd spent all day too nervous to ask this question. I was afraid to ask what he truly knew. If he knew my location, he surely would have known about Theodore, and he'd be furious that I'd waited all day to tell him.

"No, I didn't. Katherine wanted us to have a final vacation with the whole family before the wedding, and I was guilted into coming along. My mother and Mia thought that it would ease the tension between Miss ** Kavanagh **and I," Christian seemed amused with my question.

"You and Kate don't get along?" I tilted my head, hoping to keep the subject on him instead. I was too stressed to divulge my secrets.

"Katherine does not like me. She never particularly did, but she always blamed me for you leaving," Christian jaw tightened, "Of course, I see that Jack Hyde had much more of a hand in it than I did."

At this moment, Christian nearly terrified me. He was harsher than I'd ever seen him, and anger practically radiated off of him. Of course, I knew it wasn't aimed at me. In fact, it was _for_ me, but it was severe none the less.

"He didn't…" my voice cracked, "I didn't let him do anything. I'm pretty sure I nearly killed the guy in the end."

"You should have killed that little shit," Christian spat, "Why didn't you call me? I would have wanted to be there for you. I could have gotten rid of him and given him the _hell_ he deserves. For fuck's sake, I _bought_ SIP just to turn it into Grey Publishing and hand it over to you one day. That company was practically yours."

I struggled to process everything he'd just told me. He'd wanted me to call him… Fuck, I wish I had. And he'd bought SIP for me? That was amazingly generous- probably _too _generous- but sweet all the same.

As I replayed what he'd just said in my head, I focused upon the phrase "one day." That meant he'd thought there was a future with me. I'd been more than an dissapointing sub to him all along, and I'd never truly realized it. Everything that I'd told myself was wrong. I'd run away from a man who tried to love me in the only way he could, and I'd hidden his only child from him in the process.

And I honestly loved him, too. I'd never realized before how much, and it was suddenly crashing on me like a wave I couldn't outrun. I loved Christian Grey, and telling him what I needed to say would ruin everything. He'd never forgive me. I wanted to just stay in this moment away from cell phones and dreaded reports detailing my entire life.

"Did you really not want to see me, Anastasia? Did you hate me _that_ much for the belt?" Christian prodded me, and I knew I couldn't leave this question unanswered.

"Christian, when are you going to realize it wasn't really about the fucking belt?!" An anger that had been building inside of me for years was finally being released, and it made tears stream down my cheeks, "I love you," I told him bluntly, "The fairy tale, _hearts-and-flowers_ love you. And you told me you couldn't love me, and the belt only proved that."

Now, Christian was silent, and this only fueled me to continue.

"It hurt like hell, and it didn't matter what safeword I used. You need that. You _want _that. I can't be that girl, and I swear, I wished I could've. If I stayed that night-_no, if I stayed at all_-" my eyes were trained on Christian, "One of us was going to compromise. Either you were going to painfully force yourself to give me the love I needed, or I was going to live my life trying my best to be something I'm not in fear of losing the man that I love. I would have watched everyone else get the love they wanted, and I would have gone to sleep every night alone in the room dedicated to your subs. I didn't want that, Christian."

When I was done, the plane suddenly felt uncomfortable, and I couldn't tell if minutes or hours passed with Christian stared at me.

"You didn't put 'love' in the past tense," Christian finally noted.

That was all the answer I needed. With a small sigh, I brought the champagne to my lips.

What was I expecting? That he would suddenly confess he'd always loved me and that we would live happily ever after with Theodore? It was never going to happen, and I needed to move on with my life. No matter how much nicer Christian was now, he was the same Christian Grey I'd met in Seattle. He wasn't going to love me.

And if I could never truly be with him, I just needed to rip off the bandaid and tell Christian about our child.

Fuck, how does one start a conversation like that?

"Christian, we need to talk-" I began, but Christian cut me off.

"Anastasia, just let me give you a proposition," Christian leaned back in his seat, assuming the role as the intimidating CEO I'd interviewed so long ago.

"This all started with a proposition," I pointed out.

"A different one," Christian shook it off, "Do you really want a vanilla relationship with absolutely no kinky fuckery?"

I raised my eyebrows, struggling not to laugh, "_Kinky fuckery_?" I repeated.

"Kinky fuckery," Christian's face was so serious that I giggled.

"I can't believe you called it that."

"Well, I did, and you're avoiding the question." Christian's voice was calm, and I thought about it as I took another sip of my champagne. I was surely going to need alcohol if I was to survive this conversation.

"You avoided mine, Christian," I raised an eyebrow, prepared to further evade his questions.

My inner goddess is on her knees begging me to be honest, and I couldn't resist.

Hesitantly, I murmured, "I like your kinky fuckery."

"That's what I thought. So, what is it you don't like?" Christian seemed particularly satisfied with himself.

"Christian, seriously, there are other things we need to discuss-"I began, but he shook his head.

"Listen to the entire proposition, Miss Steele. Now, what do you not like?" Christian urged me, and I rolled my eyes.

I didn't like not being able to touch him or that he truly enjoyed the pain. And the bite of that belt…

"The threat of cruel and unusual punishment," I told Christian resolutely.

"What does that mean?" Christian tilted his head, and my frustration was growing.

"The canes and whips in your playroom. They scared the _hell_ out of me. I don't want to be black and blue after sex," I crossed my arms.

"Alright. No whips or cakes- or belts, for that matter," he added sardonically.

"Christian, are you just trying to redefine our hard limits?" I frowned.

"No, I am trying to understand you, Anastasia. You never communicate with me, and I'd like a clearer picture of what you like and dislike," Christian added my head.

"Fundamentally, I dislike your enjoyment of inflicting pain on me, and I especially don't like that I will 'earn' punishment by crossing some little _rule_ of yours," I explained.

"You agreed to the rules, Anastasia," Christian genuinely seemed confused.

"I don't want a set of rules," I rolled my eyes.

"_None_?"

"No. Rules," I clarified, shaking my head. I was starting to feel sick. Where was he going with this, and when would he allow me to tell him what I needed to?

"But you don't mind if I spank you?" Christian stared at me, and I felt my cheeks flush.

Shit, what the fuck did _that_ have to do with anything?

"Spank me with what?" my voice was smaller as I squirmed uncomfortably.

"This," he held up his hand, and I chewed on my lower lip.

"No… Especially not with…" I trailed off, my face as red as a tomato now.

"With?" Christian was nearly smirking.

"Those… silver balls," I avoided his stare. Yes, I would certainly do _that_ again.

"Yes, that was fun," Christian smirked.

"More than fun…" I murmured, and he seemed to particularly enjoy this response.

"So, you do like _some_ pain."

"I suppose," I raised an eyebrow, silently imploring him to get to the point before I blushed any more.

Stroking his chin, Christian thought for a moment before saying, "Anastasia, I would like to start this again. We can do the vanilla thing, and once you trust me more and I trust you to be honest with me, we can move on to do some of the things I enjoy."

Fuck.

He was asking me to take him back under different conditions.

My jaw dropped, and I slowly croaked out, "Punishments?"

"No punishments," Christian shook his head, "None."

"Rules?" I struggled to catch my breath.

"None."

"None at all?" I swallowed, "But you have needs…"

"I need you more than I need that, Anastasia. These last three years have been purgatory. All of my instincts told me to that you go. I thought I didn't deserve you. Then, I saw you here. Before me, you were so untroubled and beautiful," he stopped, "not that you're not beautiful now," he quickly clarified, "But as I look at you now, I see your pain, and it's hard knowing that I make you feel this way.

"But you know that I am a selfish man. I've wanted you since you fell into my office. You are exquisite, honest, warm, strong, witty, beguilingly innocent; the list is endless. I am in awe of you. I want you, and the thought of anyone else having you is like a knife twisting in my dark soul."

Oh my God.

I completely forgot about my unrequited declare of affection. Undoubtedly, this is better than him uttering three overused words. My subconscious is doing backflips, and my inner goddess is begging me to forgive him and accept the fucking proposition.

"Christian…" I moved closer to him, frowning him, "You don't have a dark soul. Sad, maybe, but beyond your _intimidating _exterior, you're a good man. You're… generous," and hopefully forgiving, "And-And you're glorifying me far too much."

My lower lip trembled, and I could practically feel the champagne rising up my throat, "Three years ago, that _night_, I realized I'd never exactly tried hard for you. You were so easy on me. You needed a girl to who could stand up to your worst, and I knew I couldn't _be_ that girl. I didn't want to lose you. I promise you, it _killed_ me. I want to please you, I do, but it is so hard."

"Anastasia, you please me all the time. How often do I have to tell you that?" Christian whispered.

"I never know what you're thinking, Christian. Sometimes, you're just… so closed off. You intimidate me, so I keep quiet. I don't know which mood you're going to be in at any given time. It is so confusing, and you won't let me touch you. And I just…" I frowned, "I want to touch you to show how much I love you," I lowered my voice to a whisper.

As he stared at me, I wished I could have just crawled into your arms and hugged him close to me. But I couldn't without telling him.

No, I needed to have strength. I needed to be an adult and deal with it

"Do you accept the proposition?" he whispered, and I frowned deeply.

Yes-No. Maybe. Fuck.

"You don't… Christian, this is so complicated," my eyes watered, and the pure disappointment and pain caused a stray tear to slide down my cheek. Before I could continue to talk, my body convulsed with pained sobs.

Christian moved closer to me and snaked his arms around my body, pulling me close, and my head rested on his shoulder.

"Oh, Anastasia," Christian murmured, his fingers raking through my hair in such a manner that my body instinctively calmed, and his nose buried into my hair, taking a deep breath of my citrus-scented shampoo.

_Oh how I loved his man…_ And I needed to tell him so many things.

Christian kissed the crown of my head, and his hand slowly ran up and down my back. A wave of relaxation washed over me. I never wanted to move out of his embrace.

I wasn't sure if it sure if we were intoxicated by the champagne or the sheer intensity of being close to each other once again. Whatever it was, it was exhilarating and utterly consuming. Before I knew it, Christian's lips crashed against mine, allowing me to taste what was undoubtedly the sexiest taste in the world, and my fingers tangled in his copper hair. And his mouth… _Oh, damn_.

"Touching is a hard limit, Anastasia," Christian murmured as he pulled me towards the bedroom in his private jet.

"I know," I nodded, and we lost ourselves in the best vanilla sex I'd ever had.

* * *

**Yet again, she didn't tell him, but they did try to make up! I am so happy that I was able to update so quickly, and I apologize if it is repetitive in some areas. **

**The conversation between Anastasia and Christian has been adapted from pages 29-31 of Fifty Shades Darker by E.L. James. I do not own anything. I did change things to reflect Anastasia's more mature, stronger personality. **

**As always, leave a review! If you have any questions/suggestions, let me know!**


	6. Fifty Shades of Miscommunication

_**Fifty Shades of Secrets**_

**Chapter Six: Fifty Shades of Miscommunication**

* * *

**Anastasia Steele,**

As I slowly regained consciousness, my body bitterly paid me back for everything I'd done in the last twenty four hours, and just shifting in my sleep made me wince. Among my many newfound ailments, every muscle in my body was sore and ached at the slightest movement, and my head banged a steady, painful roar..

Slowly adjusting to my hangover, I wondered what I'd done yesterday to deserve this.

But upon thinking about it, I realized that a better question was what _hadn't_ I done yesterday to deserve this torture.

It all began with a drunken decision to call Christian Grey at two in the morning. I wasn't sure what Drunk-Anastasia was thinking, but I'd spent the last twenty four hours paying for this decision.

When I woke up in Christian's very comfortable bed, I ignored my exhaustion by fleeing his hotel room and treating my hangover with a bottle of Aleve and a mimosa. I stretched my muscles too far during a session of too-advanced yoga, and after a shopping trip with Scarlet and Mia, I tried to relax by the beach where I soaked up too much sun and sipped on too many drinks. At dinner, I drank far too much celebratory champagne, and I'd worked my body into a stressed tizzy after Curtis caused me. The only way I'd stopped myself from losing my mind was sipping on yet another bottle of champagne with Christian, and then…

Oh right. That must be why I'm so sore.

Sex with Christian was all-consuming, utterly mind blowing, and _extremely_ exhausting. When Christian touched me, I was incapable of thinking about anything other than my lust, and afterwards, I was tossed into such a magnificent orgasmic bliss that I certainly couldn't think straight to save my life.

Just thinking about our far-from-boring vanilla sex made a sleepy smile spread across my lips, and I did my best to set those thoughts at bay so that I could finally resume the thoughts of a semi-adult mother of a toddl-

Fuck!

All at once, it hit me that during the confusing, stressful events of the last twenty four hours, I had not told Christian about Theodore. Even on the three and a half hour flight from Puerto Rico to JFK airport, I didn't mention our son _once_. As far as Christian Grey knew, he didn't have a son, and I was just a girl who ran away after being attacked by Jack Hyde.

After all of the crying and promises of honest communication, I'd already messed it up. I hadn't even agreed to the proposition, but I'd already violated it. He was going to be furious at me, and he had every right to feel that way.

Shit, how could I do this?

I really _did_ plan on telling him tonight. For fuck's sake, I brought him to my hotel room in the first place so that I could tell him without interference from anyone else. When I got the call from Curtis and Christian was gracious enough to offer his jet, I was so worried about everything that I couldn't even think straight to reveal such a monumental secret. And I was finally ready to share when Christian interrupted with his proposal/declaration of love, and afterwards,, we got so very distracted.

I must have fallen asleep after we had sex.

I knew I was exhausted, but I should have fought through it and told him. Maybe he would have been more forgiving post-orgasm. At least, he wouldn't have been able to throw me out of the jet, and he would have to deal with it until we landed in New York City.

Abruptly, I was jolted out of my inner musings by the sound of a blaring car horn. What the hell was that? There weren't car horns thirty thousand feet in the air.

With a bit of pain, I blinked my eyes open and sat up enough to recognize that I was in a town car. We must have already arrived in New York, and Christian was taking me somewhere.

Oh my God.

No, I needed more time. I needed a better place. I needed alcohol to subdue my nerves and his anger, and I needed the comfort of privacy. I, at least, needed a fucking advil before I did this.. This secret had plagued me for the last three years, and this moment needed to be special. This moment needed to be the dramatic culmination of my last three years hiding Theodore. I should have been in the private jet or my relaxing hotel room in Puerto Rico or even my own living room.

But instead, I was in a town car in New York City traffic with a banging hangover, and I couldn't even move my arms without feeling like my muscles were on fire.

"Anastasia, you're awake," Christian Grey's voice was cool and collected, and his lips formed a sexy smirk that could only be displayed while freshly fucked.

"Why didn't you wake me?" I tried to it up, but my arms were so tired that they failed me, leading me to fall right back onto Christian's shoulder. He didn't seem to mind and just slowly rubbed my shoulder instead. As much as I didn't want to admit it, his touch soothed my sore muscles.

"You were exhausted, and you should really get more sleep, Anastasia," Christian's voice was chastising, and I squirmed a bit.

"Who dressed me?" I slowly glanced down at my clothes. I distinctly remembered falling asleep naked, but I'd been conveniently changed into clothes more suited for travel than the party dress I'd worn during the flight.

"I did," Christian seemed to think the answer was obvious, and I just looked down, attempting to collect all of my courage to begin the conversation.

In New York City traffic, I assumed there would be more than enough time to discuss this, and I could take my time. By the end of the ride, he could have already gotten mad at me and calmed himself, and it would be his choice if he would go into the hospital with me to see Theodore.

If he did, then that would be perfect. Theodore could have his father, and I could manage to maintain the two most important men in my life.

But, if he didn't…

Just like that, I lost all of my courage again.

That amazing proposition, the vanilla sex in the plane, all of it. It would vanish in a private jet destined for Seattle. Just like that, my twenty four hours with Christian Grey would end, and I could tuck it away in my memory to vaguely recall if someone ever pressured me about Theodore's father. I would be back to my normal life. It was everything I'd wanted this morning, but now, it made me want to cry…

I finally had my chance at getting Christian Grey back. I knew that I loved him and every fucked up shade he had, and he'd shown he loved me through that proposition. I couldn't lose him again. I just _couldn't_.

"Anastasia," Christian's hand tenderly rested on my jaw as he moved closer, "What is wrong?"

My lower lip quivered as I murmured, "We have to talk."

"About the proposition?" Christian looked hopeful.

He thought I was going to say yes.

_Oh, Fifty…_

"No, about something else," I avoided his eyes.

"Why not about the proposition?" Christian's grasp tightened a bit.

"There's something more important," I tried, "Christian-"

"Something more important?" Christian repeated incredulously, "Anastasia, are you just trying to avoid this conversation. Is the answer no?"

Damn it, that question was blunt. How could I possibly avoid that?

"I don't want to say no," I admitted, shaking my head, "Things are complicated."

"Uncomplicate it then," Christian stared me, seemingly hurt. He thought I was rejecting him.

"I… We-" I started, trying to find the best phrasing. Surely, my English degree could at least assist me in finding the right way to tell Christian about our child, but nothing came to me. I just stared at Christian as if he could somehow read my mind.

After a few minutes of awkwardly stumbling about without getting anywhere, Christian cut me off with an annoyed glance.

"You'll have to finish that sentiment later," Christian sat up, letting me sit up on my own as well, "We're here."

"Here?" Panic set in as I turned to the window to see the hospital.

Fuck, how did we get here that fast? We must have been farther along in the journey when I woke up than I thought.

An unfamiliar chauffeur opened the door for me, and Christian prompted me to get out on the frenzied sidewalk. I felt woozy, and the noise level made my head hurt even more. I nearly fell back asleep on the sidewalk, but I forced myself to fight through it.

I was going to stay conscious and act like a grown up by admitting to my mistakes. I had been childish to avoid it as much as I had, and there was simply no way around telling him.

"Christian," I began but paused as Christian's arms wrapped around my waist. He quickly escorted me into the building despite me shaking my head, "We _really _need to have a discussion before we-"

Once more, I was cut off by someone calling out my name.

Shit, could that _stop _happening?!

Angrily, I turned to see the source of the rude interruption, and there was my frantic assistant practically bolting towards me.

Curtis was hardly younger than me. He'd been born six months after me but had been employed by the company for six months longer than I had, making up for the difference. Curtis had been my faithful assistant for the last two years, and during any other time, I would have loved to see him. But, in this exact moment, I could have fucking strangled the man.

"Is that who called you here?" Christian's voice was hard, and I noticed that his arm retreated from my waist.

"Yes, but it's not what you think," I shook my head quickly.

Christian's expression was icy, and it nearly made me tremble.

No, I didn't want to tell Dom-Christian this news. I wanted him to be the loving, attentive man he'd been on the plane when I told him.

"Are we here because of him?" Christian obviously wasn't going to let me explain.

"No, no, we're not," I opened my mouth, preparing to spill my guts, "I'm here because-"

"We had sex, Anastasia," Christian was angry at me, and I couldn't understand why.

"I know we did," I stared at him, obviously confused, "What does that have to do with anything?"

Christian opened his mouth to say something, but I never heard whatever it was.

Just like that, I was bombarded with long arms tangling me into a nervous hug that silenced me. I inhaled a mixture of Curtis's cologne and terrified sweat, and questions filled my ears, overpowering the sound of Christian Grey.

"You're here. Thank God! How was the flight? Did you get in touch with Scarlet?" Curtis was bringing up important points, but none of them registered in my mind as I did my best to wiggle out of his shaky grasp.

"Christian," I began, my eyes shooting to my side, and my face dropped.

_No, no, no, he can't be gone. _

Frantically, my eyes scanned the hospital waiting room, but nobody who even resembled Christian Grey was present. My body was practically trembling as I ran as fast as my exhausted body could go to the door, and I searched for the town car I'd arrived in.

Briefly, I saw a head of copper hair duck into the backseat, and my heart dropped as the car smoothly rolled away.

He left me.

Before I could even tell him about Theodore, he left me standing in a hospital waiting room.

It was all over.

Christian Grey was gone, and I was going to go back to my normal life without airplane sex, propositions, and secret keeping.

"Miss Steele?" I was caught off guard by my assistant's timid voice behind me, and I wiped at my eyes quickly as I looked back at him.

I _wasn't _going to be pathetic. I refused to lose it in front of Curtis or Essie or especially Theodore. I was going to hold it together until I was alone and could sob my eyes out in private. I'd already lost Christian Grey once, and I'd survived it the first time. Surely, I could do it again.

As I went to my nanny's hospital room, I resigned to forget Christian Grey. This was it. It was our second chance. I didn't tell him early enough, and he didn't wait long enough. Just like last time, our inability to effectively communicate with one another ruined us. Christian and I were perpetually doomed to fail, and I'd been lying to myself to think of anything else.

"Mommy!" one sweet voice stood out among the hospital noise, and a warm smile spread across my lips.

Despite everything, Christian had given me something perfect.

Theodore Raymond Steele.

My sweet, innocent toddler bounded to me at the best speed his tiny little legs could take him. With wide blue eyes and bouncing copper curls, Theo held his arms up for me to pick up, and I happily swooped my son into my loving embrace.

"My baby, my precious baby," I whispered, pressing a million kisses to his skin.

* * *

**Christian Grey**,

Anastasia Steele.

The anomaly. The one who made the nightmares go away. The one who made me want _more_. The one I'd wanted since the day she so ungracefully fell into my office.

Why couldn't I want someone else? I had hundreds of willing, obedient subs who would not give me the hell that Anastasia Steele does.

Perpetually, she did something fantastic _only_ to do something awful.

She called me drunk only to pass out in my hotel room, and when she woke up, she ran away again. She practically tracked me down at the beach only to avoid me and openly defy me by drinking. She met my family for dinner and invited me back to her hotel room only to become a nervous wreck after one fucking phone call. She flew with me to New York City, had sex with me, and gave me hope only to run straight to that _boyfriend_ of hers.

After running into Ana this morning, I'd contacted Welch for a detailed report about Anastasia. I wanted to know about her relationship status, current address, job, family members, and any other relevant information, and I expected it in that order.

I'd wanted this report for years. Hell, I'd drafted the email hundreds of times, but I couldn't get what Ray told me out of my head. When I'd visited him six months after Ana left Seattle, he told me that Anastasia didn't want to see me. I'd hurt her, she'd hurt me, and it was best that I stayed away from her. I'd promised him, but surely, this didn't count. Anastasia contacted me after all.

To my dismay, this massive report took Welch time, and it wasn't completed until I was already in flight. After arriving at JFK and carrying Anastasia to the car, I'd noticed Welch's email on my blackberry.

There were three men listed as possible romantic interests, and each name was accompanied by a picture. And right next to Curtis Edwards was a picture of the man who hugged Anastasia in the hospital waiting room.

I was so fucking stupid. I never even asked her if she was with someone else. I just jumped into this. I wanted her so badly that I ignored every sign. That was probably what she was trying to tell me in the plane.

Why did she make me like this? I was irresponsible and wreckless. I hadn't cared for anyone in the way I cared for Anastasia.

My skin crawled as I imagined someone else having her.

She was _mine_.

Before I knew it, my anger channeled into my fist as it slammed into the car window.

"Fuck!" I screamed as the glass cracked, and the driver turned back to me.

"Mister Grey, are you alright?" he seemed timid, obviously as intimidated by me as everyone else was.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I muttered angrily, hoping he'd just shut up and take me back to the airport like Taylor would have.

"Do we need to go back to the hospital?" the man probed, and I flinched.

The hospital.

I didn't even believe in_ hearts-and-flowers _love, but I knew that the woman I loved was at the hospital making out with that little shit of a boyfriend. He didn't deserve her. She was _mine_, and I was so close to having her tonight.

I knew what Elena would have me do. She'd of sent my ass right back to the hospital like I was a stubborn little boy who needed to be chastised. For fuck sakes, I was the dominant. I didn't need to run back to a girl who obviously didn't want me.

But damn I wanted to…

Shit,, this went against everything I knew.

"Turn the car around! Back to the hospital!" I barked at the driver, making him jump, and the car swerved as he hurriedly tried to take us back to the hospital. To my delight, we arrived back at the hospital within a few moments, and I got out as soon as the car stopped. I slammed the door behind me and swiftly moved into the hospital waiting room.

Panic filled my body as I realized I had no idea where I was going.

_This was a bad idea,_ I told myself as I started towards the door again, but then I noticed Curtis Edwards mulling over a steaming paper cup. He looked exhausted and alone, and despite my urge to break his fucking nose, I knew I needed him if I was going to find Anastasia and sway her back to my side.

"Curtis," I walked to him, and his eyes shot open.

"Oh my God," he scurried to him with surprising speed.

_How had Anastasia gone from me to a man who_ scurried? _Maybe I wasn't her type after all…._

"You came in with Miss Steele," Curtis seemed happy to see me, "She was looking for you earlier. Would you like to see her?" he was obviously hoping I'd say yes.

Surely, this was not Anastasia's boyfriend. He wouldn't have been so excited to facilitate our meeting again if he was.

"Who are you?" my jaw tightened, deciding not to hope before I absolutely knew this was not her boyfriend. I'd made assumptions once, and it lead me to walk out on her.

"Oh, I'm Curtis Edwards, Miss Steele's assistant. I can show her to you now if you'd like. I know she wants to see you," Curtis motioned for me to follow him, and I obliged.

_Assistant._

Fuck, that was fantastic!

New life seemed to flow through me. Never before in my life had I been happy that I overreacted. Once more, the future was bright, and Anastasia was involved in it. Ray was right that we'd hurt each other, but our lives were entwined either way. I'd wanted Anastasia Steele from the moment I met her, and I would never stop wanting her.

"Miss Steele? Essie?" Curtis gently knocked at one of the hospital doors, and a warm yet tired voice responded.

"Curtis, please come in," the voice certainly wasn't Anastasia, but it was full of admiration. Soon, giggles added to the noise of the hospital room, and I vaguely recognized them as that of children.

Why did Anastasia have so many friends with children?

I shook off the thought and ran my fingers through my hair. I had far more pressing matters to attend to. Firstly, I needed to make Ana forgive me for leaving her in the waiting room, and knowing Ana, an expensive gift wouldn't do the trick. Slowly, door swung open to reveal Anastasia Steele with another, younger woman and two toddlers.

"Christian," Anastasia's jaw dropped, and she looked panicked. And instantly I knew exactly why…

Sitting in her lap was a sleepy yet timid little boy. He was practically asleep on her shoulder, his copper curls spilling around him, and his bright blue eyes sleepily moved to me.

Suddenly, it dawned on me that this child looked exactly like me.

As I stared at this familiar face, I realized that Anastasia wasn't the only one I lost when she left Seattle. Obviously, I'd lost my son, too…

* * *

**Well, it happened! Sadly, you will have to wait for Christian's reaction, and I'd love ideas for how you think he'd react. It is extremely hard writing about Christian because we hardly know anything about him. For this chapter, I had to reread Christian's POV in Fifty Shades Freed just to get an idea of his thought pattern, and I still don't think I got it right…**

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter! It was a pretty big one. Christian found out about Theo, and we even got a Christian POV. I apologize for taking longer than usual. My birthday was on Sunday. As always, review and keep reading! If you notice any issue or have a question, let me know! **

**Also, I would like to send a shout out to "****Dseiladmnd" ****for your idea about how Christian would find out. I loved the idea of her telling him and waiting for him to get off the plane with her, but I already had this planned. **


	7. Fifty Shades of Confrontations

_**Fifty Shades of Secrets**_

**Chapter Seven: Fifty Shades of Confrontations**

* * *

**Anastasia Steele,**

No, no, no.

This _wasn't_ how it was supposed to happen.

In all honesty, I'd been imagining how I'd tell Christian Grey about our son since the moment I saw the positive results of my pregnancy test. The date of this announcement was always undefined, placed somewhere in the not-so-distant-yet-not-so-near future, and I'd concocted a variety of fantasies. In some of them, I was a bitch from hell, demanding that Christian never attempt to take full custody of Theodore, and in others, I was an emotional wreck who collapsed into a fit of tears. I'd devoted countless hours to daydreaming about telling Christian Grey, yet I'd never made it a reality.

At the end of the day, I wanted Christian Grey to know about our son. I understood that now. It was best for everyone involved, and my son deserved to have a chance of his biological father being involved in his life. I think I'd always known that I would have to tell Christian one day. I couldn't spend the rest of my life hiding from my mistakes like a child.

While flying back to New York, I knew what I wanted this monumental confession to be. I wanted to be calm and explain my mistakes like the adult I was, and I was willing to face his reaction no matter how bad it was. I deserved all of it. I wanted to give Christian the time and space he needed to decide upon his involvement in Theodore's life, and I wanted us to begin planning the logistics of making whatever it was possible. Telling Christian about Theodore was supposed to be the very mature end to a very immature chapter of my life. It was supposed to mark the beginning of a new phase where my son knew his father and where I could stop living in fear of my secrets being revealed.

But, with Christian Grey standing in the doorway with his eyes locked on his mini-Christian son, I realized that the opportunity to tell Christian in that manner was gone. All of those fantasies were put to rest. I'd missed my final chance when I fell asleep on the plane, and there was no way for me to go back now. There had been three years for me to tell Christian Grey I was pregnant, and I took so long that he found out on his own.

With shaky breathing, I stared at Christian and waited for him to do something- _anything_.

Christian just stared at Theodore. He seemed to be scanning every inch of Theodore, realizing his striking similarity to himself in his youth. When Christian's intimidating stare wasn't directed at my son, it was directed at my embrace of him. He noted the warm, attentive way I held Theodore. It was a way only a mother could hold her child.

I wanted to say something to Christian. I wanted to make it all better. But there was nothing to say.

I was sure that Curtis and Essie were confused. Hell, Essie had never even seen Christian before, and she was in a hospital bed with some strange visitor staring at one of the children she nannied. I'd never mentioned Theo's father, and she never asked.

Poor Theo was probably confused, too…

My heart broke as I saw my son look at his own father in the same way he looked at the man sitting across from us on the subway, with shy uncertainty and borderline disinterest.

"Mommy," Theodore murmured, breaking the silence, and I nearly jumped as I adjusted back into the real world. Theo gently rubbed his bright blue eyes and let out an adorable yawn as he whined, "Sweepy."

I did my best to pull myself together. I had to. I could not cry in front of Theodore. I refused to.

"I know, Baby. Mommy needs to do something really quick," I whispered, running my fingers through his hair smoothly as I painted a smile on my lips, "Afterwards, I'll take you and Wini home, alright?"

By toddler standards, Theodore's attitude was fantastic, and his tantrums were minimal. I let out a sigh of relief that he maintained his good behavior now, and I put Theodore on the hospital bed with Essie and a slumbering Wini.

Then again, I was also relieved at Christian's uncharacteristic calmness and silence. I thought he would have been so much more intense when faced with such betrayal as what I'd done, but as I got closer to Christian, I realized he wasn't practicing immense self-control. He was truly frozen in shock. I hoped this meant his reaction would be dulled by the shock, but I doubted I'd get off that easy.

"Christian, I'm so sorry," I whispered when I was close enough to Christian that only he could hear, and that was just enough to break him free of his temporary paralysis.

Instantaneously, Christian Grey's beautiful grey eyes shifted into that of the ruthless businessman who'd build an empire by being a son of a bitch when he needed to be. And right now he fucking needed to be. I wasn't that wonderful ray of sunshine he'd seen me as in the plane. I had betrayed him, and I wasn't sure I could ever remove this tarnishment from his view of me.

While his jaw tightened, Christian motioned me with one very frightening beckoning movement to follow him away from the door, and he proceeded to storm off. As I did my best to keep up with him, it dawned on me that each step we took allowed him to yell at me even louder. He was getting away from Theodore so that his first memory of his father was not screaming at his mother.

Fuck.

I almost wanted to stop in the middle of the hall and make him start there. Then, he wouldn't be so harsh…

_No, Anastasia, you created this mess. Take the consequences,_ I told myself, but I was trembling. I didn't want to think of what my punishment would have been in the Red Room of Pain.

When Christian finally stopped, I nearly ran full force into him. I was so close that I could practically feel his rage radiating off of his perpetually impeccable body, and my fingers knotted as I looked up at him like a disobedient child waiting to be punished for her latest escapades.

"What the _fuck_?" Christian emphasized each word with wrath that shook me to my core. I hadn't been the source of his anger in so long, and it was killing me, "Anastasia Steele," he began, and in this tone, even my own name sounded like a curse. His breath was so ragged I could practically feel it on my skin, and I closed my eyes in anticipation for his question, "Who. Is. That. Boy?"

I squirmed beneath his gaze and took a deep breath.

"I think you know…"I avoided the answer.

"Tell me," Christian urged.

I faltered to get the words off of my tongue.

This had been coming for three years. I'd fantasized and feared it more than anything in the world. After all this time of avoiding it, I had to say the four words that put an end to the secrets.

_Just pull the fucking trigger Ana, and do it,_ I told myself.

"He is your son," I finally breathed out.

I wanted to feel relief. It was over. Christian knew about our son, and that was the end of my lies. Yet, I felt no relief. I was sick to my stomach and only moments away from fainting on the overly-sanitized hospital floors.

I'd just opened the door to a whole new world full of questions I didn't have the answers to.

Could Christian ever forgive me? Would he reject Theo? Or would he love him so much that he'd try to take custody of him? Would he try to take custody just to spite me? Would he try and force us both back to Seattle, or would he come to New York? Was that proposition still on the table?

I felt like I was being smothered underneath the weight of a million questions praying on my mind, threatening to ruin everything I had. I'd tried to protect my little world, but I was vulnerable. I could easily lose Theodore to Christian or his family, and the thought nearly made me shake.

Christian let out a deep, wavering breath as his fingers raked through his hair, and he paced as he shifted through so many emotions that I couldn't predict the next stage of his response.

"So, you've just kept our son? All of this time? What? He must be-must be- _two_? Or something like that," Christian's voice was teetering on the edge of screaming and crying. I'd never seen him like this, so raw and unsure.

This wasn't the CEO Christian Grey. This wasn't the Dom Christian Grey. This wasn't any form of him that he'd ever seen. I wasn't entirely sure that Christian had even seen this side of himself.

"Yes, I am so sorry-" I started, hoping that my apology would mean something to him.

"Sorry?" Christian cut me off, "You _hid _my son, and you're _sorry_? You didn't fucking steal my favorite sweatpants. You had our child- _my child_\- and didn't tell me! You just- you just hid! Is that why you ran away? So you could keep the _Big-Bad-Dom_ away from his son?" Christian practically growled, "Did you think I couldn't be a father because I wasn't your fairytale boyfriend?"

I was insulted by the accusation, but he had every right to make it. After all, he was partly right.

"No, no, it wasn't like that. I-I," I began, tears slowly sliding down my cheeks, "I love you. I didn't… I was _twenty-two. _ I didn't know what I was doing! I kept thinking I would do something, but I just never did!"

"That's _no excuse_," Christian's icy glare made my knees tremble, and it was all I could to stand up straight.

I couldn't defend myself. No matter how hard I tried to justify it, he was right. I was at fault, and I couldn't fix it. There was nothing I could say to excuse myself from blame.

"I know it isn't, but I want you to know I am so, so sorry!" I tried, and Christian shook his head.

"My son thinks of me as a _stranger_! He-He doesn't even know I exist! Hell, until two minutes ago, I didn't even know he existed either!" Christian's anger was boiling up, and his palm twitched.

_Shit. Not the palm._

"You know, I went in there because I thought that _guy_\- your assistant- was your boyfriend. I was going to win you back and whisk you away!" Christian let out a rueful laugh as he violently shook his head, "I cannot fucking believe this _shit_. I can't do this right now."

So that was why he left when Curtis showed up in the waiting room. It all made much more sense, but I guess it didn't matter much anymore.

"What do you mean?" I prompted, my voice hardly above a whisper.

"I just… Fuck, I can't…" Christian trailed off, nearly hyperventilating, "I need to breathe. I need to fucking process this. Shit," Christian shook his head again, and he opened his mouth to say something to me.

I could tell he wanted to do a million things but did none of them. He wanted to scream at me. He wanted to stay. He wanted to cry. He wanted to make amends or berate me for my reckless decisions. But he couldn't do any of it.

"I am so _fucking mad at you_," Christian's palms had passed twitching. They were balled up and turning red from the force of his nails digging into his callused skin, "How the fuck could you be so _stupid_? You were on birth control! I didn't- Fuck!" Christian ran his shaking fingers through his hair, "Did you do this on purpose?"

My jaw dropped as I stared at him.

_Stupid, _I repeated in my head, and anger swelled through me. Theodore wasn't _planned_, but I loved him. He was my child, and I loved him more than anything in the world. He was not a stupid mistake, and I could have fucking slapped Christian Grey just for saying that.

"My son is _not_ a stupid mistake, but no, I didn't get pregnant on purpose to spite you," I growled, and Christian stepped back, genuinely shocked by reaction.

Closing his eyes in regret, Christian took a deep breath and shook his head, "I'm… I need to leave."

And with that, he was gone again, leaving me alone in a hospital hallway with my son at the other end.

As I tried to catch my breath, I did my best to evaluate where I was at this moment. Was I better off? Had I taken the emotional beating I deserved? In all honesty, I had no fucking idea. I was just as confused as he was.

I just knew that I was exhausted. I felt lost in a sea of banging headaches, sore muscles, tears, and heartache. I just wanted to go home and go to sleep. I wanted to tuck my baby boy into his bed like I always did and end this traumatizing day.

* * *

My apartment was the _same_.

In the last year that I'd lived in this apartment, I'd never truly loved it as much as when I stepped through the doorway at three in the morning after what was undoubtedly the longest day of my life.

Today, everything had changed.

What was supposed to be a perfect vacation was ruined this morning when I saw Christian Grey. Before today, I hadn't seen any Grey family member or Kate in roughly three years. Christian hadn't known anything about me or about our child. I was just another busy worker in New York City with a child and a perpetually dependable nanny. But, for better or for worse, everything had changed.

Except for my apartment.

The doorman still gingerly smiled at me as I entered, and it still felt like an eternity for the elevator to reach my floor. When I walked through my front door, I still smelled the distinct scent of Earl Grey tea and cinnamon scented candles. The walls were still grey and lined with pictures, and my bookshelves were overflowing with classics, children's fairy tales, and various parenting books I'd hardly read. My toddler's toys were spread across the floor, and various baby-proofing measures in my kitchen were still a pain in the ass.

Everything was just how I'd left it when I kissed Theo goodbye, caught a cab for JFK, and flew to Puerto Rico. With my world shaking beneath my feet, I could still hold onto my apartment for comfort.

After talking to Christian in the hall, I knew I wasn't in the best of the shape, but I must have seemed much worse than I thought because Curtis immediately offered to escort me back to my apartment when I got back to Essie's hospital room. I was too tired to handle the subway or walking farther, so we dealt with traffic by taking a car.

To my delight, Wini and Theo were so tired that I hardly had to do anything to get them to sleep. After changing them both into their pajamas, I put them down to bed in Theo's room, and they were out cold within minutes, leaving me to the silence I needed. Curtis didn't stay very long. Once he knew that his boss was emotionally stable enough and that the children were alright, Curtis went back to Essie at the hospital and promised me that he'd check up sometime in the morning.

Alone in my quiet apartment, I finally had room to think. I could consider everything I was faced with, but I didn't want to. I wanted to shut the world away and hide from my confusion and sorrows in sleep.

Once my head hit the pillow, I was practically passed out, and I believe I would have slept soundly through the night had it not been for the blaring ring of my telephone at four thirty in the morning.

_Ring. Ring. Riiiing._

I squirmed in bed unhappily as I tried to avoid the noise of the phone.

At the sixth ring, I finally couldn't handle it and hurriedly picked up the receiver, worried it would wake Wini and Theo up and that they wouldn't be able to go back to sleep afterwards. I was not willing to start my day with an hour of sleep and two toddlers to care for.

This better be pretty fucking important.

"What?" I barked into the phone as I pulled my blankets up around my body, not wanting to really wake up. I hoped to go right back to sleep at the end of this phone call.

"Miss Steele?" the doorman's voice- Eddy, I think- seemed nervous, "I'm sorry to wake you. You didn't answer your intercom, and there is someone here to see you…"

"It is…" I sat up, checking my alarm clock, and I cringed at the time, "nearly _five am. _Who would try to visit me right now?" I grumbled, making a mental note to apologize to Eddy when I was less tired.

"He's…" Eddy's voice dropped to a whisper, "very, very drunk, Miss Steele," Eddy was timid as if he was embarrassed to report this all, "He said he got your address from some report and that he is… Theodore's father. He's very insistent that he sees you, Miss Steele. Should I send him up?"

_Shit. Christian._

He's drunk and trying to convince my doorman to let him up.

I'd never seen Christian drunk. He'd never even had more than a few drinks around me.

I didn't blame him from getting drunk. Hell, if I wasn't so fucking exhausted, I would have loved to have gotten drunk, too.

"Um," I sat up, running my fingers through my bedhead hair, "Yes, send him up… I'll meet him at the elevator."

"Of course, Miss Steele," Eddy agreed, and I put the phone down, jumping out of bed.

I stood at the door of my apartment, staring intently at the elevator. Surely, Christian wasn't _drunk_. I didn't think he got drunk. He hated drunks. He practically killed me every time I got drunk, so I doubted he'd do it to himself. But who else could it be?

Nobody else would have my address from a report. Nobody else would be Theodore's father.

Before I could think too much about it, the elevator doors pinged open to reveal Christian Grey.

I could practically _smell_ the alcohol on him from this far away, and as he tried to leave the elevator, he ran into one of the decorative tables by the elevator and cursed at it, "Shit." When he tried to avoid it, he just ran into it again and said even louder, "Shit!"

Oh my God.

Even if I did hate him for implying my son was a stupid mistake earlier, my heart reached out to him. My poor, poor Fifty…

I quickly walked to him, placing my hands on his arms, "Christian," I pulled him away from the table, "Are you _okay_?"

"Miss Steele," Christian slurred, winking at me. Damn, he was drunk, "You look mighty fine."

I needed to get him in bed.

"Christian, let's go to bed, okay?"

"With you," Christian snickered.

Drunk Christian _snickers_?

"Will the boy be there?" Christian murmured as I pulled him towards my apartment, and I frowned.

"My son? Yes, he'll be in my apartment. He's asleep though," I murmured back, "Lean on me, so I can take you inside."

Christian leaned against me and sniffed my hair, nearly making us both fall over. I caught myself by putting a hand on the wall.

"You're very beautiful, Ana. He's beautiful, too," Christian's breath was hot on my ear, and my anger faded into guilt.

"Walk, Christian," I finally instructed him, and Christian complied, following me into my apartment. I closed the door behind us, giving him a few moments alone, and he took his time to drunkenly stumble through my apartment.

"Parenting books," Christian picked one up before dropping it after losing interest by picking up one of Theo's toys. I took the toy out of his hands and put my hand back on his arm.

"Christian, let's go to bed, okay?" I felt like I was trying to reason with Theodore during bedtime, and if I hadn't been dragging him to bed, I would have laughed.

"Okay," Christian murmured as if trying to concentrate, and he gripped my waist, leaning on me. I dragged him through the hallway to my master bedroom, and he grinned victoriously when he saw my bed, "Bed."

"Yes, bed," I nodded, slowly maneuvering him to the bed, but he didn't sit. I frowned, tugging on him to get in the bed, but he ignored it, looking down at me.

"Join me," he pleaded.

"You need sleep, Christian," I frowned.

"I've heard about this, you know," Christian began, his words mixing together in his drunken haze, "Children mean no sex."

I rolled my eyes, "You're _funny_, Christian."

"It's true," Christian protested.

"If that is _really true_, we'd all come from single-child families," I smiled softly,

"_You_'re funny," Christian pointed at me.

"You're drunk," I raised my eyebrows,

"Yes," Christian smiled, but his expression shifted into that of a haunted little boy. It frightened me because I knew he was revisiting memories nobody should ever have to experience in the first place.

My mood softened, and I gently motioned for him to sit on the bed, "Come on, Christian," I urged him. I wished that expression would just go away. It broke my heart to see. Finally, I pushed him back to the bed, making him laugh as he sprawled on the bed. His expression had completely vanished, making me grin.

"Join me," Christian slurred, smiling up at me.

I rolled my eyes, "Let's undress you first," I murmured. I had to admit that I was relieved that drunk Christian was playful and not furious at me like sober Christian.

With a wild grin, Christian told me, "Now, you're talking."

He was _really playful_.

"Sit up and take your jacket off, Christian," I tilted my head, pulling him up a bit.

"You're good at this… He must be stubborn," Christian murmured, "Why is your room spinning?"

Shit, he may throw up. I'd just moved past the part of puke-stage of Theo's childhood.

"Sit up. Sit up," I urged him.

"Miss Steele, being a mom has made you such a bossy little thing…" Christian smirked.

"Sit. Up," I put my hands on my hips, giving him my best mom-stare. With another smile, Christian struggled to sit up on his elbows, and in the most awkward, gawky, un-Christian-Grey way possible, he sat up. Before he could lean back down, I grabbed his tie and quickly undid it, tossing it to the edge of the bed and manage to work him out of his suit jacket one arm at a time.

"You smell so good," Christian murmured, leaning his head to my shoulder, "Like lavender…"

"You smell _drunk, _like…" I trailed off, unable to determine the drink by its scent.

"Bour-bon," Christian finished my sentence, slowly pronouncing in such a manner that I had to stiffle a giggle.

No, I was not going to laugh.

Christian Grey was drunk off his ass in my bedroom with our son only a few rooms away. This isn't funny…

"You can't place it…" Christian smiled as if this was some victory, "You don't drink around him," Christian looked up at me through his long, dark lashes, "Do you?" his face paled.

The expression was back…

I shook my head slowly, "No, I don't. That trip to Puerto Rico was the first time I'd been drunk since the night I finished my last exam in college," I whispered, trying to assure him, and it seemed to do the trick.

"You love him," Christian's stare was surprisingly serious for him to be so intoxicated.

"Yes, I do. He's my child-our child. He's the best thing I've ever done…"

"You love him more than me," Christian seemed decided, "You'd pick him over me."

I sighed, "It isn't like that. I love you, and I love him. He's my baby boy…" I tried to explain, "You have to understand that."

"He looked at me like a stranger," Christian's eyes were watering. Did Drunk Christian cry, too?

"Well, you are a stranger. I'm sorry about that," I whispered, frowning as he wiped at his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt.

"I'm tired," Christian frowned, plopping back on my bed.

"Let me get your shoes off," I murmured, starting to pull off his dress shoes. I was met with little resistance, and I understood why when I heard his snoring.

Christian snored?

As I heard him snore, I realized I didn't really know him. I always thought I would at least _know_ the father of my child. Then again, I thought I'd be married and that my first child would be planned. I guess I didn't get any of that…

After getting Christian out of his shoes, I climbed onto the bed beside him, checking the time. It was already five am, and knowing my son, he'd be up within a few hours expecting cartoons and breakfast. I wished I had Essie here to take him this morning while I rested, but that wasn't an option.

With a groan, I realized that tomorrow was going to be just as long as tomorrow. Not only would I be hungover, exhausted, and busy with two toddlers, I needed to deal with Christian Grey…

* * *

**This chapter was hard to write (which is probably why it is so damn long). ****So, I wasn't really sure **_**how**_** Christian would react. I hope I handled him learning about Theo well. The next chapter should include a Christian POV, but it sadly didn't fit into this chapter. If you guys have any ideas for the next chapter, let me know! I love hearing from you.**

**The next chapter might take a few more days than usual. Sadly, I have exams this week. Also, I also apologize if I put the word "murmured" in there a lot. I think it is there like eight times.**

**Please review! I really, **_**really **_**love reading your reviews. I'm practically addicted to them!**

* * *

**Please note that the second part of this chapter is adapted from Fifty Shades of Secrets pages 403-406 by E.L. James. **


	8. Fifty Shades of Introductions

_**Fifty Shades of Secrets**_

**Chapter Eight: Fifty Shades of Introductions**

* * *

**Christian Grey, **

Not even in my drunken stupor could I escape the nightmares.

I'd attempted everything to keep them at bay. I participated in regular therapy, tried taking various sleeping pills, drank disgusting herbal teas, and even abided by strict diets. Yet, every night, I was haunted by my childhood horrors. It was all just a waste of time, money, and patience. In my experience, only one thing had worked, and her name was Anastasia Steele.

I woke with a jolt, my throat too dry to manage my usual scream.

Opening my eyes was a strain, and the bright light pouring in through the windows momentarily blinded me. When I adjusted to the sunlight, panic spread through my veins as I realized I had no fucking clue where I was.

Last night had been blurred by stress, shock, and bourbon. To simplify and understand last night would have been hard enough when I was sober, but while hungover, it was something I hardly wanted to try. I hadn't been hungover in years. I was too controlled to ever let myself cross the limit, but last night had been different.

I couldn't believe Anastasia Steele could even do this to me.

She was supposed to be my savior. She was "_more"_ for me. When she called me two nights ago in Puerto Rico, I saw this as my chance to have her in my life once more. To hell with being the better man and letting her go. Of course she deserved better than me, but I was too selfish to let her find the man she deserved. Just imagining her with another man made me want to put my first through a wall, and despite the efforts of Elena and myself, I didn't want anyone else. Subs disinterested me, and no other woman was worth my "more." I planned on wooing Anastasia and whisking her away to Seattle here I could take care of her and show her the world.

But those plans were shot to hell. Things were different. I couldn't _control _this. Fuck, I couldn't even handle this.

Anastasia lied to me, hid from me, and _betrayed_ me. Did she really hate me that much? Was I not good enough to know about my only child? Was she that fucking bitter that I wasn't the sappy, _hearts-and-flowers_ man she read about in all of those books? For fuck's sake, we had sex on my jet, and she didn't think to mention that the last time we had sex resulted in a toddler with her blue eyes…

I didn't want to think about Anastasia or our son or how drunk I got last night or anything remotely related to that. I took a shaky breath as I sat up and looked around the unfamiliar bedroom.

I vaguely remembered being in this room last night. Anastasia was with me… We both talked, but I didn't remember much. Hell, she might have kept talking after I passed out. But I did remember that Ana told me she didn't drink around her son- _our son_.

I was relieved by that. I was sure Ana was a wonderful mother. My child deserved to have someone like her as a mother. I couldn't give them that unconditional love that just seemed to flow out of her. Maybe that was why she hid him…

No, I didn't want to think about that. I wanted to get some fucking coffee and deal with the consequences of last night at a later date.

I shifted rather uncomfortably on the bed, noting that Ana had not gone to the effort to strip me entirely. I rubbed my eyes before looking for the rest of my things, and my eyes rested on a picture frame on the end table.

Shit… Is that Anastasia?

I picked up the picture to further inspect it, and my stomach dropped. She seemed absolutely exhausted, and her cheeks were stained with tears. But it was_ definitely_ Ana, and that little blue bundle in her arms was _definitely_ a baby. I'd never seen her face that happy… Ana was enamored with our son.

The little boy was so… small. So fragile, so impressionable, so innocent. It was _terrifying_. There was this small human being who shared my DNA, and whether or not anyone liked it, this particular human's life was perpetually tangled with mine. My involvement- or lack thereof- in his life would shape who he was an adult. Most men had nine months or even longer to adjust to the idea of fatherhood, but it was being slammed into me in less than twenty four hours.

My particular miniature human being was already two years old and hadn't seen my face until last night, and even then, he was just sleepily looking up at a stranger who was stealing far too much of his mother's attention. I was nothing to him, and until very recently, he was nothing to me as well.

I wondered if my own father had been this concerned. I doubted that the unidentified son of a bitch had made it to seeing me for the first time. I didn't even remember his presence, so I knew that if he did make it to this stage, he didn't stay very long afterwards. I never thought I'd have anything in common with my biological father, but now I did. I didn't know my son, and it was my own damn fault. No matter how much I'd like to think it, Anastasia didn't just hide our son because she was a bitter ex.

For fuck's sake, I was a man who liked to whip little brunettes who looked like my mom…

Anastasia didn't deserve to have that shit in her life, and that little boy definitely didn't.

My thoughts were interrupted by the familiar scent of coffee.

In my hungover state, I desperately needed coffee. To my dismay, it was tricky getting out of bed. I was dizzy and tired and sad and still pretty fucking pissed off, and all of it just made me dazed. I could have slept for the rest of the day if I'd let myself, but I'd decided I wanted that coffee.

It wasn't hard navigating Ana's apartment. I didn't take the time to notice much about it aside from the fact that it was full of her personality. If I planned on making her move into my apartment in the city, it would sure as hell be a fight. Anastasia had never truly accepted the part of being a sub where she did what her dom wanted.

"Spongebob!" The sudden sound of an excited toddler nearly made me trip over one of Ana's numerous bookshelves and land flat on my face. After catching myself, I peered around the corner to see that I certainly was not the only one awake.

There were two toddlers strewn out on the living room rug, comfortably surrounded by blankets with bowls of cereal sitting in front of them.

_Shit, two? I only remembered the boy. Did I have a fucking daughter, too?_

Just thinking about the idea of having _another_ secret child made me want to go back to bed, but I was too intrigued with watching Ana and our son (and possible daughter). She was… amazing. Even distressed and hungover, she doted on him in a way I'd only seen my mother do. She was such a natural at all of this…

How could she make it look so… _easy_?

Most people I knew would have rolled their eyes at changing the station for what was probably the millionth time, but Ana just smiled and kissed our son's cheek, happily turning the TV to a child-friendly cartoon that could easily drive many adults crazy. I didn't even like changing the radio station for my little sister when she drove with me.

How could she just go straight into _Mom-Mode_ like that and be so good at it? She had such patience and love for our child. Despite his lack of a father figure, I knew that our son had not been lacking when it came to parenting. I could never be a father like she was a mother. Maybe it was best I'd stayed out of his life until now…

It didn't take Anastasia a very long time to notice me in the back of the room, and her expression changed. She wasn't as happy or as loving as before, and I knew that she was terrified of my reaction. It broke my heart that I was that man, the one she feared. But she was right to fear me. I was still fucking mad. I deserved to know why she hid our child, and I was determined to spend today getting my answer.

"If either of you need anything, let me know, okay?" Ana whispered to the children, but they were so wrapped up in their show that they hardly noticed. Gently, Ana kissed the crowns of their heads and stood to walk in my direction.

For a while, we were both silent, and we just stared at each other. Finally, Anastasia broke the silence.

"Coffee?" Ana offered, biting her lower lip. I stared at it as I nodded. Things were so much simpler when the worst thing Ana could do to me was tease me by biting that lip…

I nodded my head, and Ana led me to the kitchen where her coffee maker was just finishing.

"I thought you only drank tea," I murmured as I sat down.

"I like tea better, but sometimes I really need the caffeine jolt of coffee. Toddlers don't sleep as much as you'd think," Ana smiled somewhat awkwardly as she filled two mugs with coffee, "Cream or sugar?"

"Neither," I shook my head, anxious to finally get the coffee in my system, and Ana sat down across from me, placing my mug in front of me.

We both sipped in silence.

The coffee helped me in fighting through my hangover. I could remember last night better now, and I didn't remember her bringing up that we had another child. But that little girl _had_ been in the hospital room with her.

"That girl… the one in the living room… is she…?" I struggled to find words, my voice still timid. I hated that I had to ask if a child was mine. I wasn't supposed to be this man. I didn't _want_ to be this man.

Ana seemed to understand what I trying to ask, and she shook her head. "Wini is Scarlet's daughter. She was staying with my nanny, Essie, as well when Essie got hurt. That was why I needed to come home last night. Essie was in the hospital, and they wouldn't release the children to Curtis," Ana's voice was practically a whisper as she stirred two packets of sugar into her coffee, "Scarlet isn't back yet, so I am taking care of Wini until then. Essie won't be able to come back to work for at least a week."

My eyes widened.

"You're taking the nanny back?" I was genuinely surprised. She got hurt while taking care of my son. What if she'd hurt him? And to place the children and Anastasia in that stressful situation was inexcusable. I didn't want that woman around my child any longer. Besides, there were thousands of better candidates that would only help my son's future.

"Of course," Ana knit her eyebrows together as if in shock.

This was clearly going to be a fight, but I didn't care. I wanted my son taken care of, and I didn't trust this nanny to do it.

"Someone more suitable should be hired in her place," I crossed my arms, giving Ana the intimidating look that made companies secede to my demands.

"Essie is wonderful with him, and he loves her. She's like a second mom, and you have no idea how amazing she's been with my schedule. If it hadn't been for her, I don't know where I'd be. I can't just _fire _her because she got hurt on my watch," Ana ignored my look and crossed her arms.

"He can love a new nanny, too. If you're going to change, you need to do it now, and given the circumstances of our arrival in New York, I don't trust her caring for our son. We're hiring someone else," I was going to be just as stubborn as her. At his age, my life was fucking awful, and I wanted to make up for that by giving my son the best he could possibly have. And his current nanny was certainly _not_ the best.

"Essie is fantastic. Scarlet was even the one who found her, and she even trusts Essie with the care of Wini, too," Ana was trying to talk me into it.

"Then Essie can fully devote herself to Scarlet and Wini," I cocked an eyebrow, and Anastasia was practically fuming. She opened her mouth, most likely to scream at me, but she was cut off by the chirping of her cell phone.

Ana mentally debated whether or not to answer the call, but she eventually shook her head, "That's Scarlet. I should answer it. This conversation is _not_ over though," Ana quickly walked to her bedroom to get her phone, leaving me alone.

I took this opportunity to get out my Blackberry and begin requests for information on other nannies in both New York and Seattle. If I was lucky, I'd have a perfect nanny lined up, and even Anastasia could not deny that firing Essie was the best choice.

"Who?"

I jumped, dropping my cell phone on the table as I looked to see who'd spoken, and my fear didn't die down at all.

My son was staring up at me, his eyes wide with curiosity as he pointed at me, and I realized that he was asking who I was.

_Shit, shit, shit, I am _not_ ready for this. _

I am not Ana. I can't just go straight into parenting. I need time. What if this kid hates me?

"Um, I'm Christian," I finally managed, feeling like I was going to throw up at any time, "Your… Your dad."

No, I should have done that in a better way. He should have gotten to know me better. Ana should have been here. It has been two seconds, and I already messed up.

"Dad?" my son repeated, tilting his head innocently. I must have looked completely panicked because he stepped towards me as if trying to comfort me.

My kid is sweet…

Probably Ana's influence.

"Juice-Juice," he held up his sippy cup with urgency in his eyes, and my face fell. Shit, he wants me to get him juice. What kind of fucking juice does he even drink? Do I need to prepare it a certain way? Is he allowed to have a lot of juice, or is there a limit?

I'm his parent, too. I can decide if he gets to have as much juice as he wants.

Wait, what if he goes crazy after having too much sugar?

Fuck. I was just going to get him the juice and figure the rest out later. With uncertainty, I took his sippy cup and walked to the fridge. Luckily, there was only apple juice, thus reducing te possibilities, and he didn't object when I got it out of the fridge. I filled it up and handed it back to him, watching for approval.

My son gulped it down and giggled happily at me, "Juice-Juice!" he toddled closer to me, hugging my knees. I flinched, making him frown and move away from me.

_Shit, no, you liked me a minute ago, _I wanted to scream, and I quickly dropped to my knees. I didn't want him to look at me like that. Before, he was so innocent. He didn't fear or hate me yet, and I refused to let that go.

"I'm sorry," I murmured, not even sure what I could say to him. What can someone say to a toddler to make them like you? Surely, there were experts I could hire to assist me in this transition. Hell, I wasn't sure that Grace could even help me. I was clueless, and my son was used to his gentle mother. How could he ever like me, too?

Speaking of his gentle mother, Ana stepped back into the kitchen and nearly dropped her smartphone on the floor. Our son ran over to her, holding up his arms, and Ana easily swooped her into her arms, kissing his cheek without thinking about it.

How could she just show _affection_ like that? I am out of my fucking league.

"Theo, Baby, do you need something?" Anastasia ran her fingers through his hair.

_Theo._

That's his name.

I realized that, until now, he'd just been "our boy," and my stomach dropped as guilt once more flooded me. I should have tracked her down. It's not like it would have been hard. I had people who were paid for this specific purpose, and if I'd just found her, we could have worked it out. I would know my son's name, and he would know me as his father.

"No," Theo shook his head, sucking down his juice.

"Alright, how about you go play with Wini?" Ana put Theo down gently, and he waved at me.

"Bye-Bye, Dad," Theo giggled before running back to the living room, and Anastasia turned her attention to me, raising an eyebrow.

"He called you his dad," Anastasia crossed her arms.

"I _am_ his dad, right?" I was suddenly terrified that that little boy wasn't my son. I didn't want to lose those innocent eyes staring up at me. Shit, I would fucking lose it if someone else helped Ana conceive Theo.

"I lost my _virginity_ to you, and I haven't had sex with anyone _since_ you," Ana looked somewhat insulted as she walked towards me, "He… The two of you seem to get along."

"I…" I raked my fingers through my hair as I thought about his reaction to my flinch, "I tried."

"That's all any of us can do. I don't know what I'm doing either," she was trying to console me, but it didn't help. She was born with the disposition to be a fantastic mother. I am a powerful CEO who fears the touch of another person. We were hardly comparable.

I sucked in a shaky breath and sat down by my coffee.

"Theodore is my grandfather's name," I murmured, and Ana sat down across from me, obviously wanting to help somehow.

"I… I named him after my teddy bear," Anastasia admitted sheepishly, "My pregnancy was hard, and I was always so upset that I felt comforted by my teddy bear. So, I named my son Theodore Raymond Steele."

"Theodore Raymond Grey is better," I muttered.

"Is that what you want?" Anastasia stared at me, and I knit my eyebrows together.

Of course I wanted my son's fucking name changed. He is _my_ son, meaning he is a Grey. If it was going to be a fight, I'd settle for Steele being his second middle name, but preferably, I wanted Steele gone completely. I didn't want to be reminded of the two years he hadn't been in my life.

"To be his real dad," Ana tried to clarify, "You know, to be in Theo's life."

Did I?

I wasn't ready to be a dad. I had such a shitty childhood that I had no idea how to be a good dad. Even if I wasn't afraid of being touched, I didn't know how to show Theo the affection a child needs from his father. But I didn't want to lose his wonderful innocence… He had no reason not to trust me. I wanted him to have everything I couldn't, and that included a father.

"Yes, I do."

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**In this chapter, I really tried to show Christian getting used to the idea of being a father and even getting attached to Theo, and I really loved having the two interact. Obviously, Christian is still mad, but he is cooling off. It was hard to find the right balance of his emotions in this chapter, and I am looking forward to reading ****Grey**** to understand Christian's POV more. **

**What do you think about what's happened? How will they all adjust? As always, review, favorite, and follow this story! **


	9. Fifty Shades of Agreements

**Fifty Shades of Secrets**

_**Chapter Nine: Fifty Shades of Agreements**_

* * *

**Anastasia Steele,**

I stared Christian Grey in disbelief. Despite everything I'd done to him in the last twenty four hours (and three years), he still wanted to be in Theodore's life. He wanted to be his father even though I doubted he truly understood what that would mean for him. For the first time in his life, my son had the opportunity to know his father and vice versa.

I should have been jumping for joy or crying or something dramatic like that, but I just felt frightened.

What the fuck had I just gotten myself into?

Before Christian was involved, things were completely figured out. Theo and I (and Essie) had a schedule that worked perfectly for all of us, and Christian Grey wanted to change everything from Theodore's last name to the nanny that cared for him while I was at work. Things would change so quickly and so unexpectedly that I had no idea what to anticipate.

I'd gone through a lot of change in the last few years. I graduated college, had a whirlwind _romance-ish-thing_ with Christian Grey, and joined the workforce. Then, things went to hell. I left Christian Grey, had a very uncomfortable exit from SIP, and moved back in with my dad. Then, I had _a kid_ and kept moving around until I ended up in New York City where I was finally happy. That was supposed to be the last change. I planned on raising Theodore right here in Manhattan and settling down with my fantastic career and good friends.

Surely, adding a father into Theodore's life should be the easiest of all my transitions, right? If I could adjust to everything I already had, this _should_ be a piece of cake.

_Shit, Christian is staring at me_. He expects me to say something back. What the fuck do I say?

"That's… Wow," I stammered, my cheeks flushing of embarrassment.

Christian smoothed his shirt and reached for his blackberry while I tried to formulate an adequate response, and his expression shifted from a panicked new father to an intimidating CEO in project-planning mode. I was sure that this was his method of coping or of demonstrating acceptance, but I was also sure that this couldn't be good…

"I can have Andrea begin the paperwork to change his last name. Hopefully, it can be done within the next twenty four hours while we're still in New York," Christian's long fingers flew on the keyboard, and I knitted my eyebrows together.

"Where are we going after that?" I cocked an eyebrow. I didn't remember agreeing to leave New York any time soon. Surely, he didn't expect us to return to Puerto Rico for the rest of the vacation. I'd been home less than a day, and Theodore needed some stability after all that happened with Essie.

"Seattle," Christian didn't even look up from the keyboard, "Andrea will arrange for a nursery to be put in Escala…"

_Seattle? _

"Why would Andrea put a nursery in Escala?" I stared at Christian, dreading whatever was about to come out of his mouth.

Christian looked confused as he glanced up from his cell phone. "Obviously, you and Theodore will be moving to Seattle. If you prefer to live somewhere other than the penthouse with me, there is an apartment on the floor below."

Fuck. I was hoping he wouldn't say that.

I'm not _moving_.

"Christian, my life is _here _in New York, and Theodore's is, too. I'm not just going to up and take Theodore to Seattle. That's a lot of change to throw at a _toddler_," I felt my blood boil. I am respected adult now with an amazing career I'd worked my ass off for. Christian couldn't just expect me to leave everything to be his fucking live-in Baby-Mama.

It's Christian Grey_. Of course_, he expects that.

"You can't expect me to be a part of his life when I'm on the other _coast_," Christian's stare made me squirm.

"And _you _can't expect me to just leave my career- my entire _life_\- here and move to Seattle, Christian," I was somewhat proud of my response. My subconscious was cheering me on for standing up for myself, but my inner goddess just wanted to cave and do whatever Christian wanted.

"So, you're going to keep my _son_ nearly three thousand miles away from his father," Christian glared at me, and I hated seeing his point. He was trying making me the bad guy, and it was working.

Shit, what can I say to that?

"It's not… _ideal_," I began, smoothing the creases of my favorite yoga pants. I wish I'd worn something else more appropriate for a negotiation of this magnitude. How could he take me seriously in a tee shirt and yoga pants? "But I am not just going to move, and I don't expect you to either. I think…" I wracked my brain for a solution, and to avoid sitting there like an idiot, I spat one out, "We should try just doing this on weekends. At first."

Christian didn't seem nearly as impressed with my idea as I was.

"_Try doing this on weekends_?" Christian repeated incredulously.

"You said you don't have a sub, so I'm assuming your weekends are free," I stared at him, and he slowly nodded his head in agreement to my statement. _Good_, "My weekends are free, too. There is nothing stopping me from flying to Seattle on Friday afternoon to stay for the weekend, or we could meet somewhere in the middle."

"You're going to fly to the Pacific coast every Friday?" Christian didn't seem to believe me, and I had to admit that I wouldn't have believed me either.

I hated jet lag with a passion, and I highly doubted that Theodore would enjoy flying back and forth every weekend. But, if I didn't want to move to Seattle, this was my only option.

"For a while, yes," I did my best to mask the uncertainty in my voice, "The point is that you're not ready to just jump in to fatherhood, and I'm not ready to pick up my life and move it across the country. This is a compromise."

"I don't compromise, Miss Steele," Christian crossed his arms, "And so far, everything seems slanted in your favor."

He was right… What could I give him?

"You can change his last to name to yours, and your name will be put on the birth certificate," I raised my jaw, "And you can do whatever nursery you want in Escala. _But_," I added quickly, "You have to agree to fly here, too."

That was plenty in his favor, and I knew he wanted those things in particular.

"I don't see why you don't come to work for me in Seattle. You're a good negotiator, Miss Steele," Christian suggested with a small smile. He'd said this once before back when we were still just strangers discussing his playroom, and it felt strange to hear it again in such different circumstances.

"Do we have a deal or not?" I just wanted him to fucking agree. I was out of things I could willingly give.

"If you agree to move in to my apartment in New York, we do. I'll be much more comfortable knowing that you and my son are there," Christian told me, and I knew that this apartment most likely came with security guards to bother me and report on my activities. Fuck…

"I will agree to _consider it_," I shrugged it off. Christian eyed me but sipped at his coffee instead of commenting. I'm sure he thought he could convince me to move in to his apartment.

Hell, he probably could…

"Alright, Miss Steele. I'll begin the paperwork today to change Theodore's name to Theodore Raymond Grey and to be listed on his birth certificate," Christian seemed relieved that we were done, but we were far from done if _that_ was the name.

He couldn't just _erase_ Steele from Theo's life.

"You mean, Theodore Raymond _Steele Grey_," I corrected.

"Of course, I will make my son sound like a _paint color_," Christian's voice was dry, and I was shocked by the sudden sarcasm.

"I am his mom, and my name is Steele," my voice was equally dry. Just because I'd considered being his submissive once didn't mean I automatically did everything he wanted, and I was determined to demonstrate this fact. Christian took a deep breath, obviously caught between wanting to push his point and not wanting to push the possibility of a family away.

I suddenly realized that, for the first time in our relationship, I was the one with the power. I had what he wanted, and he knew it. Had it always been this way?

"Alright, Miss _Steele_, Theodore's name will be changed to Theodore Raymond _Steele Grey_," Christian seemed annoyed with our son's new name, but I didn't care. He'd get over it eventually, "This weekend can be spent in Seattle. I'm going back to my apartment in the city, and I hope you and Theodore will join me for dinner."

_Dinner._

I paled a bit, so Christian continued.

"You _did_ say you'd consider moving to my apartment, and this is a golden opportunity to visit," Christian was throwing our agreement back in my face, and I nearly groaned.

"Of course, Christian." I agreed with a small pout, and a victorious, magnificent smile spread across Christian's lips. Even hungover and exhausted, this man was beautiful.

"Until then, Miss Steele," Christian stood up slowly, and I noted his distance. Last night, he couldn't get close enough, but now, I wasn't sure what he wanted other than my submission in the raising of our son.

Maybe we'd already lost our shot years before and only saw it now as two strangers with too many secrets. Christian wasn't forgiving, and I habitually made mistakes. And this mistake was hard for anyone to get over. How could _Christian Grey _ever forgive me for the betrayal of hiding his son? If he'd done to me, I'd hate him.

Christian quickly excused himself, and after disappearing into my bedroom for a few minutes, Christian returned looking as composed as possible given his situation. His suit jacket was draped across his arm, and his tie was hanging limply on his neck. Seemingly going to bid farewell to his son, Christian stepped through the doorway to my living room, but panic seized him.

Christian was… worried, nervous, and utterly terrified.

A mixture of pity and guilt filled my body as I watched him desperately wanting to speak to his son but being completely unprepared.

"Teddy-Bear," I called out as I quickly moved to stand beside Christian. No matter how mad I was at Christian for his lack of sufficient compromise and comments the night before, I couldn't just let him suffer like that. Theodore's beautiful blue eyes flew to mine accompanied with his typical, precious giggle, "Wave bye-bye to Dad."

Christian's eyes shot to me in relief, and he genuinely smiled as Theo waved goodbye.

"Goodbye, Teddy," Christian's voice nervously wavered, but Theodore didn't notice. He just turned his attention back to his cartoons while Christian turned his attention to me.

"Thank you," Christian thanked me awkwardly before nodding his final goodbye and walking through the front door, leaving my mind to roam to places I didn't want to see.

I did my best to put him _-and our plans for dinner- _out of my mind by getting out my laptop and mulling over messages I'd missed while distracted from work. I had a few messages from Ellis, Head of Distribution, and a few promising editors. I was tempted to forward these emails to Curtis or even Scarlet but restrained myself.

Despite my attempts to throw myself into work, I couldn't take my mind off of the last few hours and specifically my agreement with Christian.

After all, I'd just changed my entire life with that agreement. I was going to fly to Seattle every other weekend - _beginning with this one_ \- and even change my son's last name within a matter of hours. I could possibly move out of my beloved apartment, and I was now forced to share all of my parental decisions with an uncompromising and typically unreasonable man.

_But he'd compromised for me…_

He compromised for me, and I always compromised for him. And all three of us _needed_ this. I needed my son to have a father. Theodore needed to know his father, and Christian needed to know his son. I just needed to brace this and handle it like an adult.

Damn, I didn't want to though.

* * *

"Miss Steele," my doorman's voice was teetering on the edge of laughter when he called me at noon, "Miss David-I mean, Miss Rhodes," he quickly corrected himself, undoubtedly under the careful eye of Scarlet, "Is here to pick up Miss Winifred. Should I send her up?"

"Yes, please, Henry," I smiled into the phone and started to collect Wini's things that had been strewn about my apartment by my favorite energetic toddlers.

_Bang. Bang. Bang, _Scarlet unmercifully pounded on my door with an impressive amount of force for someone who had texted her arrival for as long as I'd known her. The commotion made Wini and Theo look up from their chicken nuggets and tilt their heads in innocent interest.

I suppressed my smirk as I opened the door. Scarlet looked like- for lack of a better word- _hell_. Exhaustion left lines on her carefully maintained complexion, and the make-up from the party last night had smudged along her face and the right sleeve of her shirt where she'd most likely endeavored to take it off. Her frantic, apologetic eyes scanned my apartment from her place at the door until they rested on the very much intact, safe Wini.

"Oh thank God, Baby Girl!" Scarlet exclaimed, tears sliding down her cheeks as she scooped her daughter up in her arms and squeezed her tight, "Are you okay? Mommy is so, so sorry she's late. Are you mad at Mommy? Please don't be mad at Mommy."

Scarlet stared intently at Wini in hopes of some response, but Wini just happily giggled, "_Maaah-my_!" which seemed to be enough for Scarlet because she just grinned and covered her cheeks in kisses.

After a few minutes of enjoying her mother's attention, Wini focused back on her chicken nuggets and wriggled out of her mother's grasp to return to them. As soon as she was out of earshot, Scarlet turned to me and began profusely apologizing.

"I am so sorry, I am. I _really_ am. It has been hell. Do you still keep the emergency wine?" Scarlet didn't wait for an answer before she stomped to the wine fridge she'd had installed in my kitchen as a Christmas gift, retrieving a bottle with a price tag I hated thinking about. Within a few moments, the cork was popped and two glasses were filled with dry, white wine.

Scarlet motioned for me to sit beside her as she gulped at her drink, "Mia Grey took our phones to avoid drunk texting, so I missed Essie's call. I picked up Mia's phone instead and woke up to her boyfriend trying to _sext_ her. We were all still kind of drunk, so Mia started crying because she read Essie's text about being hurt and was so drunk she thought it was _her daughter_."

When I started laughing, Scarlet silenced me with a glare. It was refreshing to listen to her problems instead of mine, so I decided to make sure she kept talking by topping off her drink.

"Anyway, I got my phone back _eventually_ and panicked. You were in flight and didn't get my messages. So, I tried to book a flight, and I had to fork out thousands for the shittiest flight with awful, fucking _long_ layovers where they lost my luggage. And all of this time, Wini was without her mom. I am such a shitty mom. Was she upset? Do you think a trip to _Serendipity__ III_ would make up for it?" Scarlet stared at me, and I frowned.

Serendipity sounded fucking amazing right now. I would love to drown my sorrows in desserts, but I had dinner with Christian Grey in a few hours.

"She was _fine_. Just sleepy. Curtis helped me take her back here, and she fell asleep as soon as we got home. Wini's had fun with Theo, I promise," I reassured her, and Scarlet relaxed slowly.

"Good… So, on to my next concern…" Scarlet raised her eyebrows.

_Shit, she's talking about Christian._

"And what would that be?" I innocently looked down at my wine.

"I don't know_. Christian Grey_. What the hell happened with you two last night? You just disappeared on his jet, and you didn't tell me what happened when I called earlier. You owe me the whole story," Scarlet whispered urgently.

"Well… I was going to tell him. And I tried. But then Essie called, and on the jet," I froze. I didn't want to tell her about what we'd done. I had hardly come to terms with it yet, "Anyway, I didn't… He took me to the hospital but misunderstood things and left. Then, he came back and saw Theo," I rubbed my forehead, avoiding Scarlet's expression. I didn't even want to know what she thought, "And he was so mad and left, but then he showed up at my apartment last night."

"Holy Shit," Scarlet filled my glass quickly, "Is he still here?" she looked around frantically, but I stopped her.

"No, he's at his apartment getting ready for dinner tonight. And he's getting the paperwork ready to change Theo's name and be put on the birth certificate, and he's probably having someone work on putting a fucking nursery put in Escala in Seattle," I brought my shaky wine glass to my lips.

"You're moving to Seattle?"

"No," my voice was definitive as if I was still battling the point with Christian, "I'm not moving. I'm just…spending every other weekend there," I murmured the last bit.

"Are you kidding? You can't _do_ that," Scarlet crossed her arms, "That's not fair to you."

"If I didn't agree to that, he make me move to Seattle, and this was the best compromise…"

"Sounds like you_ gave_ and he _took_ what he wanted. I don't hear compromise," Scarlet cocked her eyebrow, daring me to disagree.

"I hid his _son_. I'm lucky I got this much, and I want Christian and Theo to know each other," I knotted my fingers, "And I'd rather do this than be so unreasonable that Christian would try to take full custody."

"You shouldn't have just done this without a lawyer. If I'd gotten Patterson on it, you'd have gotten everything you wanted especially if you have a secret on him. Do you?" Scarlet pushed.

_Only one covered by a NDA…_

No, I'd never tell about that with or without the paperwork. That wasn't mine to reveal.

"It's done, so it doesn't matter now," I hoped that Scarlet would drop it, and to my delight, she did for the time being.

"Fine… Where is Christian's apartment anyway?" Scarlet inquired, and I nearly rolled my eyes.

Two hours ago, Christian's assistant sent me the entire packet via email. I'd gotten a floorplan and a brochure filled with a long list of amenities, and there had been directions from my place to Christian and the number of the driver who was arranged to pick me up tonight. A few of the best views of the New York skyline and Central Park were attached, and another email was full of prospective nannies to replace Essie.

To say the least, it was intense and irritating.

"By Central Park…" I murmured the address and ignored Scarlet's wide eyes as she recognized the area. It was regarded as one of the best places to live in the city, and people would have killed to live in the apartment being offered to me. But I couldn't take it. For heaven's sakes, taking the blackberry he'd given me so long ago was hard enough. I couldn't imagine taking _an apartment_.

"Wow… So, dinner with Christian should be nice, right?" Scarlet still seemed flabbergasted by the apartment Christian was offering.

Dinner with Christian Grey be _nice_?

Dinner with Christian Grey was… _intimidating_. Last night, I was saved by being surrounded by his family and friends. Tonight, it was just the three of us in a palace in the sky, facing our glaring problems over dinner and wine.

Fuck, if I couldn't resist him on the plane last night, I stood no chance now.

Would he buy the excuse that I was waiting on Scarlet to get to New York or maybe that Theodore had a cold? Wait, what if he tried to come here instead? That would surely be worse. I needed to go, but I desperately didn't want to.

"You know, there is a certain dress in your closet that would make him compromise," Scarlet's eyes turned mischievous, and before I could protest, Scarlet was turning on the baby monitor and rushing me to my room to make me over for dinner.

* * *

**I apologize for how long it took this chapter to get out there. Initially, I didn't know where I wanted to take it but knew that I wanted them to make the agreement. What do you think of what they've decided to do?**

**Review and keep reading! I love hearing from you guys.**

**Update: _I honestly did not expect everyone to get so upset. I love your feedback but please keep my feelings in mind. Part of what this chapter is showing is no one person being completely right. Just because Scarlet had one view doesn't mean that it is Ana's, etc. She knows that she is in the wrong, but she was always stubborn._**

* * *

**To Readers of Love is The Strongest of All:**

**The story is on a non-permanent hiatus because I've hit writer's block. I've tried a million times to write the same chapter, but it has come out horrible. I have decided to take a break from it for a short period of time to move past the block. I am so sorry and am determined to resume the story when I can.**


	10. Fifty Shades of Forgiveness

**Fifty Shades of Secrets**

_**Chapter Ten: Fifty Shades of Forgiveness**_

* * *

**Christian Grey,**

For the first time all day, I was in control. I was safely tucked away in my castle in the sky where I was king and the world bowed to my feet. Under my very careful instructions, my staff was fulfilling all of my expectations for this evening. If everything went according to plan, I'd have what I wanted, and I could make this _right_.

I was one of the richest and most influential men in the world. There had to be a way to rectify the last two years that Theodore had been without his father. If I could just be that man- _be "Daddy"_\- for Teddy, it could go away. I was sure it would.

And I sure as hell could give my son what he needed. Even more, he'd have everything he'd ever want. He would never endure the childhood I did. He would never know hunger or abandonment. He would only know comfort and love and _stability._

Beginning with tonight.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I fished out my blackberry to see a confirmation text from Andrea that my plans were falling into place. My lawyer in the city, Altman, was scheduled to come by tomorrow morning and begin the process of naming my son _the paint color_ and adding my name to his official birth certificate, and an interior decorator had been hard at work all day converting my bachelor pad into a home Anastasia couldn't resist.

I wanted Anastasia and Theodore here where I wouldn't worry about them Monday through Friday. Of course, I wouldn't have to do that if she would just move to Seattle. I could come home to my girl and my son.

I closed my eyes tightly, trying to shun off the thought. _She isn't _your girl_, Grey. She hasn't been in years…_

I needed to make an appointment with Flynn. I was sure he'd have a fucking field day. After our session where I realized I was open to a more normal relationship with Anastasia, Flynn had been telling me to go after her. He even reprimanded me occasionally for thinking that I was so unworthy of her and that she was better off wherever she was with whoever the hell she was with. I hated to think that, if I hadn't been so stubborn, my son would have had a father around.

I always thought I was doing what was _best_ for Anastasia. She wanted a clean break after I hurt her in the playroom, so I gave it to her. When I realized she left Seattle, I resisted the temptation to have Welch track her down because I knew I would have gone to her in a moment of weakness if I had her address handy. I'd tried to find her once, but by the time I got to Ray's house, she was already gone. I thought this was a sign to fuck out of her life and let her be happy.

"Mr. Grey?" a woman's voice forced me out of my inner turmoil.

"What?" I snapped, looking up to see Miss Somers standing in the doorway of my study. _Fuck, not her again_.

Miss Somers was a regrettable choice as an interior decorator. She came highly recommended and was known for being very efficient, and because I needed the work done all today and she didn't mind such a short time frame, Andrea hired her. When I got home from Anastasia's apartment, she was already at work trying to make my apartment more inviting for Anastasia's sake. She presented ideas for Theodore's nursery, and once I helped finalize what I wanted, I thought it would be the last time I'd see her today.

I was wrong. Miss Somers -or, as she insisted, _Abby_\- had bothered me for the last hour in attempts of flirting. As a whole, she was too flirty, too brunette, and too fucking _touchy_, and I was hardly in the mood to deal with her today.

"We've just completed. Would you like to do a walk through before we leave?" Miss Somers batted her eyelashes as if to entice me, and I nearly told her to fuck off.

"Yes," my voice was clipped, yet Miss Somers didn't falter. She simply beckoned me out of my study and began to ramble on about the small changes she'd make to transform my apartment into a "home" and all of that bullshit. It was irritating.

"I was worried about the paint color in his room, but now that it's dried, I think it will actually help Theodore sleep. Wonderful name, by the way," Miss Somers opened the door to one of the bedrooms and stared at me as she waited for my approval.

I smirked at the color she was referring to, _Steel Grey. _When I saw it on one of the swatches, I insisted on it and nearly made her paint the entire apartment this color. The nursery was everything I'd expected. It was modern, brand new, and extremely safe. Only the best.

"Speaking of sleep, if he doesn't like the lights of the city, this remote will close the curtains, and he can completely avoid it. The baby monitor is accessible to all of your devices and can be shifted to your Bluetooth speakers. Nothing in this room can be stained, and I'm sure he'll love it. I wish I could be here to see his reaction," Miss Somers twirled her hair around her finger hopefully, and I nearly grimaced.

"Theodore and his _mother_ will see it tonight," my jaw tightened.

"Of course..." Miss Somers fished a card from her purse, "My team and I can easily come back if you need anything else, Mr. Grey. I'll show myself out," she watched me, probably wanting me to stop her, but I couldn't wait for her to get out. I breathed easier when the clacking of her high heels was dulled by distance, and I appreciated her handiwork.

There were stuffed animals, books, and particularly trains. There were toy trains in Anastasia's apartment, and Theodore was wearing _Thomas the Train_ pajamas. Surely, he had to like trains, right? Fuck, what if I messed up? I should have asked Ana or even Theodore himself.

Damn it.

Just as the panic was starting to rise through my veins, the security unit in the hallway buzzed. Someone just entered the code to the elevator. I checked the time hurriedly. If everything had gone right with the driver bringing Anastasia and Theodore here, they should be arriving now.

I felt like I was going to pass out. I quickly walked to the foyer where Ana and Teddy would come out soon. Should I have a drink waiting for her? I sure as hell needed one. Wait, didn't she say she didn't drink around Teddy? That's a good thing. I probably shouldn't drink around him either. But a glass of bourbon did sound amazing right now…

Before I could come to a decision, the elevator doors opened, revealing my two favorite Steele's- well, one _Steele Grey_. Anastasia looked… wow. My mouth dried, and I looked away to avoid staring. Teddy, as always, seemed to be filled with innocent curiosity with his new surroundings..

"Welcome, Anastasia and Theodore. I trust your ride was comfortable." Damn it, that didn't show what I wanted to at all. I should have said something else.

"Yes, Christian, it was. Thank you," Ana seemed just as nervous as me. Was this a good thing? I didn't want her to be uncomfortable around me or my apartment considering I wanted her to move here.

"Daaah-duh."

My breath hitched, and my eyes widened as I looked at Theodore. He called me Dah-duh. My heart melted and seized at the same time. I felt warm and loved and adoring and fucking terrified. I am Dah-duh. This was what I wanted, right? Sooner than I could have imagined… I just needed to not mess this up. Surely, I was capable of that.

I slowly held out my hand for him, "Hello, Teddy." He stared at me with uncertainty that made me want to cry, but once Anastasia gently nudged him, he gave me a wide smile and walked to me as fast as his shaky legs could take him. This child is so sweet. How did _I _have such a loving, gentle child? Right, Ana raised him…

I squatted down to be close to Teddy, finally having the chance to study his features. He looked like me, but he was lucky to have Anastasia's benevolent blue eyes. Theodore didn't see the monster within me, and I was determined that he never would. I never wanted him to know the things I've seen.

"I want to show you your room, Teddy. Would you like to see it?" I whispered, tempted to run my fingers through his bouncing curls, but is that something he likes? I didn't want to hurt him.

Teddy giggled in excitement, and I looked back to Anastasia, "How does a tour sound, Anastasia?" I offered.

"Sounds lovely, Christian," Ana smiled, and I stood, walking slowly as I lead Teddy from the foyer to the bedrooms. I watched Anastasia's expression, trying to judge her reaction. I hoped she liked it…

Maybe I should buy something older and more "homey." _Or I could buy something she'd like in Seattle._

I opened the door to Theodore's bedroom and was met with a gasp from Anastasia and a giggle from Theodore.

"Twain!" Theodore toddled over to one of Miss Somers's best choices, a reading nook in the shape of a train. This was more than worth the price tag of his redecoration.

"I'm not sure I'll get Theodore to go back home after he's seen this…" Anatasia's eyes were filled with awe as she looked back at me, and pride filled my chest.

Mission accomplished.

"If you said yes, this _would_ be his home."

To my delight, Anastasia mulled over this idea, walking towards the tablet controlling the room. I followed her and powered it on, "It's the control board. It adjusts temperatures, acts as a baby monitor, and does this," I selected one of the many buttons and watched as the curtains automatically moved away from the wall of windows to reveal the city skyline.

Theodore crawled out of his train and toddled to the window, his eyes wide as he watched Manhattan buzz to life beneath his gaze, and I began to appreciate New York City in a way I'd never before. Nearly bursting with excitement with his new discovery, Theodore held out his hands in a beckoning motion, "Maaaah-my! Daaah-duh!"

Anastasia immediately walked to him, doing her best to gracefully sit beside him on the floor. I could have just watched them forever as Anastasia pointed to various landmarks of the city, but Theodore looked back to me, "Daaah-duh." His lips formed a pout, and I realized that he really wanted me there.

I could do that… Swallowing, I went to the wall of windows and sat on the other side of Theodore, and I was rewarded with a blinding smile from Theodore.

"T'ank you, Daah-duh," Theodore held out his arms, and I felt a rising panic. What did that mean? Pick him up? Hug? Or was that just a hand signal children did? I looked to Anastasia for guidance, and understanding my confusion, she mouthed, _Hug_, slowly.

Right. I knew that.

I suppressed the darkness as I leaned in to hug Theodore. This won't hurt me. He's two years old. He's my son. He _likes_ me. And I love him. I'll be alright.

Pulling Theodore into my arms, I couldn't get enough. He wrapped his arms around my neck, and his little feet stood on my knees, letting me bury my face in his copper curls. They smelled like apples and Ana and everything I never wanted to let go of. Hesitantly, I released the hug and took a moment to admire his dainty features.

I loved this child. For the first time, I understood the unconditional parental love my parents had always assured me they felt despite my doubts. This baby boy was the most perfect thing in the world, and I wanted the best for him.

"Are you hungry, Teddy? What do you like to eat?" I asked, glancing at Anastasia for another helpful hint, and I saw she was nearly in tears. She hurriedly wiped at her eyes, and Theodore answered for himself.

"Pizza!"

* * *

After two slices of cheese pizza and nearly an hour of exploring his new toy closet, Theodore's energy finally gave out. I convinced Anastasia to let him sleep in his room here, and while she put him to bed, I selected a bottle of wine for us to share. If I remembered correctly, Ana was only open with me in print and when I'd given her liquid courage.

Once I had two glasses ready, I could hear Miss Steele's high heels coming towards the kitchen, and I turned just in time to see her enter. She truly was beautiful, maybe even more so after having Theodore. I couldn't believe I'd thought she was ordinary when I first met her.

"As always, you look stunning, Miss Steele," I gave her my most charming smile and watched her blush. She still couldn't take a compliment. I needed to fix that one day…

"Theodore's room is amazing. Thank you, but you really didn't need to do all of that..." Ana's gaze lowered to her fingers.

"I wanted to. When the two of you move in, I want you to be completely comfortable, and this is the best of the best. My favorite part is the paint color, you know," I added as I offered her the glass of wine, and Ana stared at me as she accepted her glass.

"The _paint color_?" she repeated.

"Yes, it is a nice shade of _steel grey_," I smirked, and Ana's eyes widened. She stopped herself just short of rolling her eyes and laughed instead, flushing at what was probably the memories of how I'd punished her when she rolled her eyes.

Hopefully, not the last punishment.

I'd done too much. I'd just been selfish and pushed us too fast into something so brutal. I regretted it with every ounce of my being, and thinking about it soured my otherwise happy mood.

I'd had a great evening with my son. He'd loved his bedroom and approved of the pizza I ordered. In fact, he'd been so happy about it that he got me to substitute my original meal plan of salmon for a few slices of Sicilian pizza. With Ana silently coaching me along, we played with his trains, and I'd even kissed him goodnight. I was doing far better than I expected.

"I haven't changed the name just yet. My lawyer is still working on it. We have time to _not_ include Steele. Raymond is already there after all," I suggested, and Anastasia stared at me.

"This isn't about his name having a connection to my family, Christian," Ana actually looked angry at me, "This is logistics. I am still his mother, and given that _my_ name is Steele, it makes sense for both of the last names to be present. I don't want some idiot to act like he isn't my son because we don't have the same name."

"In New York City and Seattle, Theodore will not be the _only_ kid to have a different last name than his mother. It is not that uncommon," I pushed the point, sipping at my chilled wine.

"It would just be _simpler_ if his name was Theodore Raymond _Steele_ Grey. You can add it as a second middle name if you wish, but I am not signing off on Steele being completely removed," Anastasia wasn't going to bend, and was I not completely pissed off at the entire conversation, I might have been somewhat proud of her. She had come a long way from the college girl being pushed around by Katherine Kavanaugh.

"Were you always this stubborn, Miss Steele?" my voice was edging on anger, and her expression reciprocated.

"Yes, you were just trying to spank it out of me," her words were harsh and caught me off guard. Ana seemed to regret saying it and stared at her wine glass, trying to decide whether or not to apologize.

But now I was _mad_.

"Are you _ever_ going to forgive me for that? I hurt you, and I've regret it for the last three years. That didn't give you any right to hide my son from me, you know. He's two years old and is just getting to know his father. That's fucked up for all of us," I nearly growled.

"We can't undo that, Christian," Ana shook her head, "It happened, and I will never stop regretting it. I knew you didn't want to have children. I was a scared twenty one year old girl, and I avoided my problems. I'm _sorry_, but I can't change the past."

"Yes, we can," I shook my head, verging on desperation. We could. I knew we could, "I can learn to be his dad. We can change his name. We can move Theodore back to Seattle where he can really be a Grey, and we can just _forget _this all ever happened."

"That's not how it works! No matter what you do, Theodore was still a Steele for some time. He lived with me in New York and had a life. You can't just _erase _it all no matter how much we wish we could. You have to see that!" Ana stared at me as if begging me to see something I refused to admit existed.

She was wrong. She _had_ to be wrong. What the hell was all of this money worth if it couldn't change the past for my son and me?

"You just want to stay here! You want to keep your job and your friends and your current life! That's why you won't move to Seattle where the three of us belong!" I abandoned my wine on a nearby shelf and watched as Anastasia fumed.

"I am not your little toy to play with as you please. I have worked my ass off to make a life for my son and me, and you can't just up and tell me to leave it! I regret the choices I've made, but you can't just use them against me to get whatever you want. This has been a hell of a fucking day, and you can't make me decide everything right now! Theodore is my son, too. Just because I fucked up doesn't mean that I don't deserve a say," Anastasia stared at me, waiting for a response.

I shouldn't off said it. It was too far. I knew it was, but I was so angry.

"I could take custody from you. With my connections, it wouldn't be hard."

Fuck.

Pure fear filled Anastasia's eyes, and the air silenced. I wasn't even sure she was breathing. After an eternity of her painful staring, she muttered the most truthful three words of today.

"_You son of a bitch_," her eyes watered, threatening to spill over, and I faltered. This was so much worse than when I'd punished her our last day together. She'd never hated me this much, and I'd never deserved it this much either.

Would I do it?

I could.

By the end of the month, Theodore _Grey_ could be mine and only mine, living in the lap of luxury in Seattle. I could hire whatever fucking nanny I wanted, and I wouldn't spend every weekend on a jet. I would get everything I wanted-

"_Ahhhh! Maaaaaahhhh-meeeee!"_ Theodore's wail interrupted everything, and without thinking, Anastasia and I both sprinted to the Theodore's bedroom. Given that Anastasia was in heels, I reached the door much faster and saw my perfect baby boy red with tears.

I could do this. I am his parent, too. Not only Anastasia can care for him.

"Theodore, please, it's alright. Everything's alright," I tried to assure him, running my fingers through Theodore's hair like Grace used to, but it wasn't working. _Fuck_. I scooped him into my arms carefully, but Theodore thrashed, screaming his incoherent wails.

Shit, shit, shit.

I was in over my head.

I couldn't understand him, let alone _help_ him.

"Theo, Baby, it's just a dream. Mommy's here. Daddy's here. It was just a dream." Suddenly, Ana was beside me, her hand resting on Theodore's back as she dug through her purse to reveal a battered teddy bear.

"Buh-Beary," Theodore sniffled, slowly calming down at the sight of his mother and eventually the toy. Without looking at me, Ana scooped Theodore out of my arms and into hers.

"Yes, Beary. Your favorite," she kissed the side of his head, rocking him gently, "And Beary wants you to know that it was a bad dream and wasn't real, and he's going to protect you from all of those nightmares, alright?"

"T'ank you, Beary," Theodore murmured, wiping at his eyes with the sleeve of his pajamas, and he hugged the teddy bear to his chest while Ana placed him back is crib, "Mommy, song. Song, Mommy," Theodore implored.

As Anastasia began to sing a gentle lullaby, I fell back into a rocking chair. Anastasia was Mommy. She loved her son, and her son loved her. Teddy needed her, and he deserved someone was loving as her to care for him. I had the crack whore taken away, and it killed me. I couldn't imagine how horrible it would have been if I'd lost a mother as wonderful as Ana.

I couldn't take him from her… I wouldn't dare.

Hell, I loved them both too much to do it.

Once Theodore was asleep, Ana looked back at me, probably thinking about the same thing I was. Was it an empty threat, or should we both prepare for war?

"I won't take him," I whispered, worried about waking Teddy.

Finally, the tears that had been building in Ana's eyes spilled over, and before I knew it, she was hugging me. She didn't touch me anywhere other than my shoulders, and it allowed me to pull her into me and bury my face in her hair. She still smelled the same. My perfect girl…

"I'm so sorry, Christian. This is all my fault…" Ana whispered finally, and I pulled her closer.

"We both contributed to this fucking mess, and you're right. We can't undo it. I can't erase his past. I just want to be in his future," I mumbled.

"We have to do it together… Which means we both have to stop being so angry with each other and with ourselves, especially me," Anastasia told me, not moving out of my arms, "I've been so mad. I've hated you for hurting me and hated myself for leaving and not coming back. I've hated myself for using a safeword and for not just going with it. I was worried I couldn't be what you wanted. I wanted you to be happy," she laughed bitterly, and I suddenly realized she'd been thinking about it as much as I had, "I was mad at myself for getting pregnant and then for not telling you, and I was mad at you for saying all of those things about him when you met him. And I was mad you wanted me to leave New York, and I was at myself for not doing it…. I can't be a good mom if I hold on to all of that. We both have to let go."

She was right, and I hated to think of my perfect Ana so upset. I hugged her closer and took a deep breath.

"I've…" I began, my voice shaky, "I've hated myself for hurting you, for betraying your trust. I knew you weren't ready, but I was selfish. I've hated myself for making you think that I didn't want you if you didn't like my whips and toys, and I've hated myself for not giving you more like I should have. I've mad at you for not using a safeword and making me care for you. I've hated myself for letting you leave, but I thought I was doing what was best for you. I thought you were better off without me. Now, I hate myself for not trying to find you. You were too young for all this shit," I swallowed. I hadn't been this honest with anyone other than Flynn, and it was hard, "I have so mad that you hid him from me and that I don't know how to be the dad he deserves."

"Christian," Ana looked up at me, "It's hard, but you're doing great. I'll help you. We need to revisit our agreement and sees what really works. I was ridiculous and terrified of losing him, and I'm sorry. We just need time to work everything out."

"I'm not known for my patience, Miss Steele."

And then Ana laughed, genuinely laughed. Maybe talking about all of this shit was the best thing to do. We really could move on. I'm sure Flynn would have been proud.

But could we move on to the proposition I'd offered in the plane?

I hoped so…

Anastasia yawned, and I decided to put my thoughts off until tomorrow. Ana was tired, and I needed to get her to bed.

I slowly stood, scooping Anastasia into my arms as I started towards the master bedroom. To my surprise, when Ana sleepily rested her head on my chest, I didn't feel darkness. I just apples and felt warmth. I carefully put her on my king size bed and helped her out of her high heel shoes, and as she started to fall asleep, she groggily looked up at me.

"We're okay now, aren't we?" Anastasia seemed hopeful.

"Yeah, I think we are. Now, sleep. Tomorrow is a busy day. We're changing Theodore's name to Theodore Raymond _Steele Grey_."

Ana smiled warmly before falling asleep.

* * *

**Wow, I honestly did not expect the mixed reactions to the last chapter. I really hope I don't lose readers, but I am not going to change it. This whole story is based on the principle of no character being completely right, and I hope this chapter helped bridge the gap of them first trying to understand everything and being angry to accepting what's happening. Theodore needs them both, so they have to work together. I didn't mean for Scarlet to make so many people upset either. Also, Ana asking for her name to be included in Theodore's name is not uncommon/unreasonable, and I was surprised at what a big deal that became. I****'m not mad at any of you guys though! I liked the honesty (even if some of it was brutal)!**

**This chapter was hard to write because I wanted bonding moments and the fight between Ana and Christian. I wanted them to get so angry that they poured everything out, admitted their fears and anger, and moved on. **

**Also, I read finished****Grey****and wanted to include some of that flair such as references to the smell of her hair, "my girl", and overall affection. I loved the book from his perspective, and I hope you guys read it. **

**Overall, what did you think? I hope you're not all still mad at me. Please review!**


	11. Fifty Shades of Mornings

_**Fifty Shades of Secrets**_

**Chapter Eleven: Fifty Shades of Mornings**

* * *

**Anastasia Steele,**

For the first time since I'd given birth to Theodore, I slept soundly. I even woke up peacefully. As my eyes fluttered open, I was greeted by the morning sun bouncing off of Manhattan straight into the bedroom. I flipped on my side to avoid the sun and saw an empty yet rumbled side of the king bed.

Christian must have slept here with me…

I sat up slowly, rubbing my eyes as I tried to fully wake myself up. I stood and sauntered towards the window. Theodore had been right to admire the view so enthusiastically last night. It was truly breathtaking, and it only made it harder to resist Christian's offer to move into this apartment.

How could I take his _very expensive apartment_ when I felt so damn guilty just temporarily borrowing that Blackberry and Macbook? It was best for all of us for me to move here especially if I expected Christian to fly to New York every weekend. I needed to put aside my pride… Even if it did make me feel somewhat cheap.

I wondered vaguely which room this was. Christian never got around to his tour, so until Christian escorted me into this room, I hadn't even known of its existence. It was probably his room. Shit, what if it was his sub room? Maybe he brought them along on business strips. No, no, _surely_, he didn't. The thought saddened me and even made me _jealous_.

Did I even deserve to feel jealous? He had a very colorful life before me. He probably had one after me, too….

Not wanting to think about it any longer, I left the bedroom and did my best to navigate the unfamiliar penthouse. This place was massive. I should have paid more attention to the floorplan Andrea emailed me.

"Mommy!" Theodore's warm giggle finally oriented me, allowing me to let out a sigh of relief. I followed the voice and found myself in a sleek, state of the art living room with more space than most apartments.

Christian and Theodore were both sitting on one of the plush couches while one of Theodore's favorite cartoons played in the background. Theodore was playing with a few toy trains while Christian tried to play along, struggling without my assistance. He was getting along better than he thought he was though. Theodore absolutely adored him more than I ever let myself hope he would, and to my wonderful surprise, Christian was transforming into a father figure remarkably well and would only get better with time. He just needed to see that and not worry too much.

Theodore quickly abandoned his toys and toddled towards me, holding out his arms expectantly, and I happily picked him up, placing a kiss on his cheek as I walked towards Christian.

"Miss Steele, good morning. I trust you slept well," Christian smiled at me, standing gracefully, "Theodore and I were about to wake you. My kitchen is not currently stocked, and we were planning on ordering breakfast. I assume pancakes and bacon for you," Christian seemed somewhat nervous.

Was something up that I didn't know about? Shit, what happened while I was asleep? What if our _admit-it-all-fight_ was all for nothing, putting us right back at square one? I squirmed a bit, struggling not to show my fear.

"You remembered," I laughed softly, "Granola and tea works just fine for me. Thank you, Christian," I slowly cocked an eyebrow, silently questioning his expression. Oh please just tell me before I come up with all of the worst possibilities.

"Are you sure you don't want more?" Christian urged, and I resisted rolling my eyes.

"Yes, Christian, I'm sure I don't want more. Thank you for the offer though," I began to rock Theodore in my arms.

Christian nodded his head, silently caving from his demands of me eating more. Surely, this meant we had come a long way after our fight last night. We were both willing to compromise now, allowing us to become a family for Theo. There were no more secrets between us or unspoken animosity. Everything was out in the open, and I had to admit that I had never felt so relaxed because of it.

Christian's cool exterior somewhat cracked as he awkwardly motioned towards Theodore, "What does Theodore typically have for breakfast? Are there any allergies, intolerances, or even behavioral side effects I should take into account?"

_That's why he's nervous. He doesn't know what Theodore eats_.

Once more, my heart broke. I was so used to taking care of Theodore that I forgot his life wasn't common knowledge. What else was Christian clueless about? Shit, we needed to talk about his schedule at some point today. Maybe I could write it all down or have Curtis create some little booklet. A nagging part of my subconscious reminded me that, if I hadn't been such a bitch for the last three years, Christian would already know this stuff. I shook off my guilt just enough to answer his question.

"No allergies, no intolerances," I tried to think of what I typically gave Theo for breakfast and came up blank. How do I not know this off hand? I'm the one who feeds him breakfast after all, "He eats cereal, fruit, waffles, that sort of thing," I bit my lower lip, looking down at Theodore, "What would you like for breakfast, Baby?" I deferred the decision to him, half-expecting something like chocolate donut sundaes.

"'rench toast," Theodore answered with a broad smile as he played with my hair, curling it around his tiny fingers.

Christian let out a relieved sigh and smiled softly, "French toast sounds perfect, Theodore. I'll have it delivered."

"Tell Daddy, 'Thank you,' Theodore," I reminded my son, and Theodore quickly expressed his gratitude in his usual adorable way, holding out his hands for him.

_Oh shit, Theodore wants Christian to hold him._

This is too soon, far too soon. Christian didn't even let me touch him, but maybe after hugging him last night, Christian could handle this.

I stared at Christian who looked just as flabbergasted as me, and I did my best to read his expression as to whether or not he could/wanted to hold Theodore. I was just about to deter Theodore and suggest he go watch his cartoon when Christian held out his arms to pick Theodore up.

Okay, okay, he wants this. We can do this. Worst comes to worst, Christian panics and puts him down on the floor.

Timidly, I handed Theodore to Christian and watched with fear as Christian tried to appropriately handle Theodore in his arms.

_Christian is a strong man. He can hold a baby. Stop freaking out, _my subconscious glared at me, but the mommy deep inside was about to pass out. I relaxed as Christian and Theodore finally found a comfortable position, and after convincing myself that nobody was going to get hurt, my eyes shot to Christian's expression. I hoped he would be accepting and loving and relaxed, but he was scared. Of course, he's _scared_. He deserves to be.

"T'ank you," Theodore's voice was full of earnest love and innocence, and I was just as moved as Christian. This kid would never stop amazing me.

"You're very welcome, Teddy," Christian murmured, pressing a slow and very gentle kiss to Theodore's forehead, and for a perfect moment, Theodore wrapped his arms around his father's neck and hugged him. Tears were springing to my eyes by the time Theodore pulled away and motioned to the TV.

"Buggy!" he pointed, and Christian's eyes shot to mine.

"That's what he calls that cartoon character," I assured him, hoping it wasn't obvious that I was about to cry. Christian already caught me like that last night, "He wants to watch TV now, I think. Right, Theodore?"

Theo nodded and scurried off to the living room once Christian put him down.

"You're doing really well with him, you know," I whispered once Theodore was gone, and Christian looked back at me with youthful wonder, looking his own age.

"You think so? I don't know what I'm doing…" Christian raked his fingers through his hair.

"If it makes you feel better, I don't know either," I added, but Christian just shook his head.

"You don't count. You're so innocent and sweet. You were practically born to be a parent… I, on the other hand, was not," Christian murmured, and I opened my mouth for a rebuttal. But nothing came out… Instead, Christian just said, "So, how did you sleep? Obviously, the room can be renovated to your taste. The entire apartment can. I want you comfortable should you say yes to moving in," Christian stared at me as if asking for an immediate answer.

"Despite my pride… yes, I'll move in. It'd be easier for you and Theodore if we were here," I agreed hesitantly, and Christian's lips broke out in a stunning, panty-dropping grin that nearly blinded me. Even though I loved every last flaw in my apartment, I didn't regret leaving it as I watched Christian light up. He'd given up enough for me. It was time for me to start giving back to him.

Still silenced in amazement, Christian watched me, shaking his head, "Always a surprise, Miss Steele."

"I hope a pleasant one," I laughed, feeling surprisingly playful after seeing such a broad grin from such a solemn man.

"Usually," Christian winked- Holy fuck, _winked?_ Is he playful, too? I would have said yes a long time ago if this would have happened.

Suddenly, I felt a surge of something I hadn't expected. I was hopeful for his proposition on the plane. I was hopeful that maybe we hadn't missed our chance and that we were just a few more dips and dives to the end of the rollercoaster where we could be happy together. The idea of being with Christian Grey in the capacity he offered me made me nearly giddy as it was suddenly an _actual possibility_.

I was snapped out of my pubescent daydreams by the chime of his blackberry, and just like that, we were back in the real world. Christian fished the device out of his pocket, and after momentary contemplation, he answered the call with an apologetic smile, "Ros?" he barked, walking away from me to an office near the kitchen.

When he was gone, I suddenly felt engulfed by all of this space. I got the smartphone out of the purse I'd left in the kitchen and opened Andrea's email about the apartment while sitting on the couch near Theodore. I hurriedly opened the floorplan and felt my eyes widen as I studied the specs for the first time. Christian's apartment was nearly five times the size of my current apartment. I could probably fit all of my stuff from my apartment into one guest room. What on earth would it feel like when it was just Theo and me here?

I didn't want to think about it, so instead, I began to look into the process of moving. After all, my personal assistant was technically off for the rest of the week, and it would do me good to distract myself.

_Ding. Ding. "Mr. Grey?"_

I jumped, staring one of the intense-looking tablets on the wall. Was that the intercom? Shit.

Before I could adequately freak out, Christian appeared from his office, curtly ending the call and pressing a few buttons on the tablet.

"It should be the lawyer," Christian explained, "He was supposed to arrive at eight thirty to begin the paperwork for Theodore's name to be changed. I hope you don't mind doing it now."

"No, of course not," I smiled softly, feeling a bit overwhelmed, "I'm very excited for our paint color."

Christian flashed a grin that calmed me once more, and I stood, deciding that I could quickly shower while Christian handled the legalities of changing Theodore's name. I would sign where I needed to, and we could all put this behind us.

"I'm going to take a shower," I explained sheepishly as I noticed Christian's confused stare.

"Of course. There are clothes for you in the second master closet."

_Second _master closet? In _New York_? My first apartment practically was a closet.

"Oh, thank you… Which room is the master?" I bit my lip.

"The one you slept in, of course. Your room now," Christian added, and relief spread through my body. It wasn't a sub room. It was _his/now-my _room, and I nearly beamed at the thought.

* * *

**Christian Grey,**

I stared at the name on the legal document sitting on my coffee table.

_Theodore Raymond Steele Grey_.

It sure as hell was a mouthful, but it fit. After a few more signatures, Theodore would be my precious paint color. Maybe I could call him that as some sort of pet name like I'd called my brother Lelliot. I would have liked a nickname like that. Anything would have been better than _maggot_.

I winced as I thought of Ella and our hellish time together. _Don't go there, Grey, not now. Now is a happy time_, I felt like screaming at myself, but I maintained my smile towards my middle-aged, highly accomplished and overpaid attorney, David Altman. Typically, personal matters such as this were reserved for my father, but this matter was far too delicate for my father to be involved. I'm sure he would have demanded I draft the paperwork to assume full custody as well.

"We're right on track, and with a bit of push, this should be out of your hair fairly soon, Mr. Grey. Your name carries a lot of weight," Altman nodded to me, "I just need a few more signatures from the mother, Miss… Steele, is it?"

"Yes, Anastasia Steele," I worried that I was heading towards small talk. I was hardly in the mood for it, and I found myself hoping that Anastasia would hurry along in the shower.

I wouldn't be waiting for her if I'd showered with her…

No, no. I can't think like _that_. I tried to distract myself by watching my son race toys along the plush carpet.

Before I could entirely block out the image of showering with Ana, she came down the hallway from the master bedroom and shot me a warm yet nervous smile. Was she overwhelmed? Of course she is. We've done a lot in the last few days. I should probably go easy on her for the rest of the day. Maybe we could just take Theodore to the park and grab lunch. Families did that, right?

"Ahh, Miss Steele," Altman stood, holding out his hand for a handshake, and his eyes looked dazzled as he stared at _my_ Ana. I glared at him to back off, and I resisted the urge to kiss her in some display of dominance.

"Please, call me Ana. And you are?"

"I'm David Altman, the lawyer working on changing your son's name and paternity legally. I have a few papers for you to sign, Ana," Altman was grinning at Ana in the way he'd grinned at his last twenty-something wife, and I nearly growled.

"Of course," Anastasia sat beside me and listened attentively as Altman explained the papers sitting in front of him and what she needed to do with them.

She quickly skimmed the passages, and I couldn't help but whisper in her ear, "Oh, so now you read what you sign…"

Anastasia's cheeks flushed, undoubtedly thinking about the night she last signed something for me. That was certainly a nice, vanilla night. I never thought those two things would ever go together, but with her, they did.

With a flourish of her wrist, Anastasia signed the paperwork and leaned back to the sofa, looking over Altman's shoulder to Theodore playing on the rug. He was so incredibly _happy_. Is his temperament truly this peaceful? Well, obviously not after nightmares like that night… I hoped he hadn't inherited the tendency to have them from me. With luck, he'll grow out of it in time.

"So, that's it then?" I was eager to get Altman out and back to his young girl so he'd stop staring at mine. If he wasn't so discreet and dependable, I would have fired his ass the moment I noticed his eyes lowering past her face…

"Yes, I will be in touch. When will you next be in New York City, Mr. Grey?" Altman started to gather his paperwork.

"Next weekend," I answered curtly, and Altman looked up at me for a moment, undoubtedly thinking about how he didn't usually work on weekends. It was too fucking bad though. For his fees, he could just deal with it. If he didn't, it would be just as easy to have a lawyer in Seattle handle the proceedings.

"Of course, Mr. Grey. I'll get back to you with a progress report," he stood, outstretching his hand first to Anastasia who shook it in her typical friendly manner and then to me. I gave him one of the firmest handshakes of my life and tightened my jaw, and doing his best to hide the intimidation, he smiled at me, "It's been great working with you on this. May I call you Christian?"

_No._

I didn't answer and let him come to his own conclusion as he saw himself out.

Anastasia glared at me, and I pretended not to know why. Of course, I was a jackass to him, but he deserved it for flirting with her.

"Breakfast should be here any moment. I ordered French Toast, your favorite tea- very weak-, bacon, and eggs. Does that suit?" I raised an eyebrow, silently daring her to bring it up, but as I'd learned before, my intimidation didn't work on her.

"Eventually, Theodore and I will have to go home. Our clothes are still there. You can't keep making us stay by offering food," Anastasia crossed her arms, mirroring my expression.

"I need to make sure you're eating," I insisted. Considering she had only given birth to Theodore two years ago, she was so thin. After she'd told me that she didn't eat after she left me, I'd been particularly worried about her eating habits.

"I'm_ not _eating by a list of foods, you know. Theo isn't either."

"Even before I knew that there were two of you, last proposition didn't involve a list of food, Anastasia," I made sure to bring up the last proposition. She didn't answer before, and I wasn't sure if it was because she didn't know if it was still on the table. Hell, _is _it still on the table?

"Mommy," Theodore's voice interrupted us, and I looked down to see that he'd toddled all the way to us and was tugging on his mother's skirt, "_Baff-room_?" he whispered, and Anastasia laughed softly, picking him up.

"I'll show you where it is, Baby. If you'll excuse us, Christian," Anastasia smiled at me before carrying him back towards his bedroom.

As I watched the two of them go, I tried to process the idea that he was going to his bedroom in his new home. She'd actually agreed to move in. Maybe she wasn't as stubborn as I'd always thought…

I was forced away from my thoughts by my cell phone buzzing in my pocket. Ros. Again. Shit. She was already mad at me for not being as available as I promised I'd be in Puerto Rico, and I needed an update on our latest merger.

As soon as I accepted the phone call, I was thrown back into the world of business and back into Ros's anger. I opened my laptop to view a few documents she sent me. I was interrupted by my intercom, and knowing it was just breakfast, I hurriedly buzzed in the visitor and went back to work.

"Hey, there, Mr. Workaholic!" a familiar, boisterous voice made me choke on my coffee.

_Oh fuck no._

My eyes shot back to the foyer where my baby sister was beaming at me with her best buddy Katherine Kavanaugh. No, no, no. They can't be here.

"I'll call you back," I murmured into the phone, hanging up before Ros could object, and I stood quickly, distracting them from seeing the toy trains in the corner, "What are you two doing here? Not that I don't love my little sister, of course, but I thought you were in Puerto Rico," I quickly hugged Mia.

Mia squeezed me and giggled with her typical excitement, "Thanks for the greeting, Big Brother. I missed you, too. Great to see you," Mia scolded me playfully as she pulled away, "I _should_ be mad at you for being such a vacation-deserter, but I'm not this time. But, because you ditched me, you happened to help out Ana_ and _spend a whole flight with her! Are there wedding bells in the future? There _better_ be because she made you happier than I've ever seen you," Mia would have kept going if Kate hadn't luckily cut her off.

"Speaking of weddings, that's really why we're here. Anastasia lives in New York, and she needs to get her dress fitting. We were hoping you could use your stalker-magic to track her down," Kate interjected.

_Stalker-magic?_ Is _that_ what she thinks of me?

It's Kate. Of course it is.

"Plus, we were all going to get dinner tonight, and I wanted you to come. Maybe we could stay here," Mia suggested, and I felt my palm twitch.

Shit. What the fuck do I do?

I blinked, trying to calm myself.

"You could have called Miss Rhodes. She was close with Anastasia. She would know where she is without the use of _stalker-magic_," I suggested, not letting them in past the foyer.

"But then I couldn't set you two up," Mia looked at me like I was an idiot.

"How about you two get breakfast while I call around to try and find her?"

"We already ate," Kavanaugh was giving me the look that only caused trouble. She could tell something was wrong. Maybe, if I acted like more of a jackass, she would think I was being normal.

"I'm busy this morning. Ros needs me. We should meet up later. Lunch? Perhaps you could invite Miss Rhodes?" I felt like I was running out of time.

"Christian, do you not want me here?" Mia seemed genuinely hurt, and I nearly banged my head on the hall.

"Of course, I-" I began but was interrupted by the elevator doors opening to reveal room service finally arriving with my breakfast. Just in time for them to notice it…

A petite, nervous looking blonde stared up at the three of us with a timid smile, "Your breakfast, Mr. Grey. Where would you like me to set up?" she seemed to understand that her arrival was fucking things up, but I felt mad anyway.

"Dining room," my voice was curt and made the woman scurry towards the dining room with breakfast.

Once she was gone, Katherine cocked an eyebrow, "That was a large breakfast for just you, Christian. Abandoning the annoyingly healthy lifestyle?"

How could my brother handle this bitch?

Before I could adequately lie, it all went to hell.

"That smells delicious," Anastasia announced as she came around the corner with Theodore in her arms, paling as soon as she noticed the visitors beside me.

Katherine's eyes about bugged out, and Mia dropped her purse in pure excitement.

"Oh. My. God! Anastasia and Christian. Why you sly little things? I knew it was meant to be! Why didn't you just _say_ you had 'company', Christian?" Mia gave me a knowing wink before wrapping Anastasia up in what looked to be a painfully tight hug, and she admired Theodore, "And who are you, young man? You're beautiful!"

Theodore stared at her with a combination of excitement and uncertainty at her exuberance, but he answered her question anyway. "Theoooo-dore Waymond 'Eele," Theodore stopped for a moment, looking particularly proud of himself and slowly added, "Grey?" he looked between Anastasia and me.

Joy spread through my chest as I realized that Theodore recognized Grey as his new last name, but a sense of impending doom rained in on my happiness. Mia looked up at Anastasia, silently imploring for an explanation.

"Theodore is my son… Well, um," Anastasia swallowed, "Our son," she pointed at me and then back to herself.

Mia's jaw dropped, and for the first time, she was stunned to silence. Katherine looked like she could have fucking broken my nose as she marched over to Anastasia and gave her a glare that made Theodore squirm uncomfortably.

Oh hell no, she was not going to intimidate my child. It was bad enough that she did it to Ana.

"What do you mean Theodore is your son? I've-I've never even met him," Mia looked up at me with big, hurt eyes, "Have you hid him from me?"

"No, no, I... I hid him. Christian didn't know," Anastasia looked back to my desperately, and I came towards her, letting her hand Theodore to me. I pulled him close to me and kissed his copper curls. I was better at this after holding him earlier, and I felt the sudden need to protect him from this situation. He shouldn't hear about this shit of who knew about him and who didn't. To my surprise, everyone silenced as they watched the two of us.

"Hungry, Dahh-duh," Teddy murmured, and I nodded.

"Let's eat breakfast, Teddy," I walked towards the dining room, hoping that they could work it out without Theodore being involved. Maybe French Toast and syrup could distract him from the yelling that was certainly about to take place.

"Yes, let's. We need to all _talk_," Kate demanded, marching into the dining room with Mia following close behind, and Anastasia looked at me.

"This'll be hell…" she whispered in passing as she went into the dining room, and I had to admit she was right.

* * *

**The ending was a bit weak, sorry, and it was so hard to come up with a chapter title. Any suggestions? I also apologize for it taking so long to get this chapter out. I am in the middle of moving, and it is very stressful. **

**What do you think about where this story is going so far, and what do you think of this chapter? Please review!**


	12. Fifty Shades of Breakfast

_**Fifty Shades of Secrets**_

**Chapter Twelve: Fifty Shades of Breakfast**

* * *

**Anastasia Steele,**

With a lump forming in my throat, I followed Mia and Kate into Christian Grey's elaborate dining room with all of the regret and hesitance of a prisoner marching towards her punishment, and I was tempted to sneak out with Theodore and Christian for breakfast somewhere else while Mia and Kate weren't looking. But I'd just be delaying the inevitable. They were going to give me hell, and as unexpected as it was, I was going to receive said hell right now.

Even though I deserved every bit of what Mia and Kate could dish out to me in the next few hours- and, let's be honest, the next few _decades_-, I couldn't help but be furious that I had to face it right now. Christian and I had enough shit to deal with without anyone else becoming involved, and I felt like we were finally starting to get it right. After clearing the air last night, we were on our way to success.

Christian was becoming comfortable with Theodore and vice versa. I was learning to release the reigns I'd held solely for so long, and I was starting to think that I just might be able to make up for all that I'd done in the last three years. We could give Theodore the family he deserved, but I'd conveniently forgotten that our families were also _extended_ beyond the three of us.

Naturally, upon entering the dining room, Kate took control at the head of the table while Mia dejectedly disappeared down a hall and returned with an expensive bottle of white wine that she poured into her glass of orange juice. I was tempted to do the same, but I doubted that Christian would approve given our previous conversation about drinking in front of Theodore. Besides, it was hardly nine in the morning.

The server- I think her nametag said Natalia- was doing her best to be as fast as humanly possible without spilling the breakfast spread, and I desperately wanted to make her _slow down_. While the stranger was still in the room, there was peaceful silence. Nobody was screaming at me or crying, and I wanted that to continue. Perhaps I could invite her to dine with us. Hell, I could move her in as a full time peace-keeper.

"Leave out a plate of French toast, bacon, and scrambled eggs, and take it to the kitchen for my son," Christian broke the silence, obviously trying to save Theodore from hearing all of the shit I was sure Kate would say.

_That's a great idea. Why didn't I think of that? Hell, Christian might even be the better parent out of the two of us_, I thought. I knew that Theodore couldn't just eat alone in the kitchen, and Christian didn't need to deal with this either. This was my fault- not his. Besides, I was sure that not even Christian could stay calm and collected under the concentrated anger of Katherine Kavanaugh.

"You should eat with him," I suggested, and Christian cocked an eyebrow, silently asserting that he would deal with it if he pleased, but Theodore seemed so excited by the idea of eating breakfast with Daddy that Christian caved.

"Also, bring the omelet and black coffee," Christian snapped, making the server fervently nod as her expression filled with intimidation and awe. Even when Christian was mean, he made women fall to their feet…

With an impressive speed, Natalia served without even spilling the fresh pot of my favorite tea, and just like that, she scurried off to the kitchen behind Christian and Theodore before I could even express my gratitude. And I was thrown to the wolves.

"What the actual _fuck _are you doing, Anastasia? I thought that Christian didn't even know about Theodore. Was that all just shit so that he could keep this secret?" Kate launched at me, her voice hushed in fear that my two year old wasn't completely out of earshot, but I doubt her considerate volume would last.

"Wait, you _knew?_ And nobody told me_, the actual aunt_! Why did you tell Kate and not _me_?" Mia jumped in before I could even process Kate's questions, making me feel overwhelmed. As I knotted my fingers, I shook my head profusely.

"No, no, it wasn't like _that_. I didn't _tell her_," I began, "She just… _figured it out_."

"She figured it out?" Mia stared at me incredulously, and I felt my cheeks flush, "How the fuck did you _figure it out_?" Mia directed her anger at Kate for a moment, and I could tell that Kate didn't appreciate it.

"That picture that Scarlett showed- the toddler- looked like Christian exactly! He just had Ana's blue eyes. I confronted Ana after dinner, and she admitted it," Kate explained quickly to Mia before shifting back to me, obviously not enjoying being in the hot seat, "And she _said _that Christian didn't know about their son, but he apparently has Christian's fucking _last name_."

Now that they were done screaming at each other, their expectant yet furious expressions were directed solely at me, and I realized it was time for me to start explaining.

"He didn't know until that night! I realized that he needed to know, and he met Theodore that night when we had to fly into New York. And Christian wants to be in Theodore's life, so we began the paperwork for him to claim paternity and change Theodore's last name to Grey this morning," I felt sick to my stomach as I squirmed beneath their glares. I felt the urge to curl up in a ball and hide from this hell like a child.

"Just like that?" Kate stared at me as if I was insane, "I thought you didn't want that asshole around. He doesn't know how to be a boyfriend let alone a father. Isn't that why you left in the first place?"

Fuck, I'd hoped she'd never asked why I left him- and very soon afterwards, Seattle period. Even without the NDA, I couldn't just tell her that I wanted love while he wanted kinky fuckery, and the spanking incident wasn't something I wanted to discuss either. I'd never had to prepare a story for why I left. Scarlett had always just accepted that I was with a guy, it didn't work out, and I became a single mom nine months later.

"No, that's not really why I left. Simply, we didn't exactly… end on _great terms_, and my boss was a pervert that I quickly realized I didn't want to work for. So, I just found myself unemployed in a strange city where I felt like I was constantly being reminded of my ex. I know you hate him, but I didn't. When I realized we were uncompatible, it broke my heart, and I was the one to leave him," I swallowed, feeling something bubble up in my stomach that reminded me vaguely of the pain I'd felt when I left Christian, but I quickly suppressed it, "I didn't even know I was pregnant. I just thought that some fresh air would do me good, so I went to stay with Ray for a while. Besides, there were very few jobs in Seattle for publishing. I was going to have to move eventually anyway," I was being honest, but I felt like I was walking on a tightrope to avoid bringing up anything covered by the NDA.

"What about me? You didn't even think about me, your best friend! You know that my father could have gotten you a job. You didn't need to leave," Kate looked genuinely hurt, and once more, I felt guilty for not contacting her when I left.

But how could she ever understand how madly in love I was with Christian after such a short time together? When just looking at her reminded me of the whirlwind affair, she would have told me to just get over it, and I would have been forced to endure countless blind dates until she deemed that I was over it. But I couldn't just get over him. I was so devastated after I left Christian that I was a danger to myself, and I just needed a new start. When I found out I was pregnant, I couldn't trust her blabbermouth to keep my secret, and it was just _easier_ to start over completely.

"Yes, I _did_ need to leave. Sure, it would have been a lot better if I didn't, but my life had fallen apart. I needed to come back to life and be me again. I thought it would be best to just break free for a while. I planned on coming back a few months later- maybe not _permanently_ but for a little while," I shrugged it off, "But you know what time apart does. It just becomes harder and harder to come back. Then, a few months later, I found out I was pregnant, and I just…" I wracked my brain for the right words, "_panicked._"

"Why? Because Christian wasn't going to be a good father?" Mia cut in, "I understand that, but our family would have wanted to support you. My mom would have done _anything_ to be involved in her grandchild's life even if Christian was a little shit and wouldn't acknowledge it- which he wouldn't have done, by the way," Mia seemed a little iffy on the last bit, but I smiled away. I was sure that they would have been fantastic.

I had no idea what would have happened if I'd come back to Seattle when I was pregnant. Maybe Christian would have taken me back and adjusted to the idea of a family, or maybe he would have shut me out with the promise of hefty child support that helped ease his conscience. Maybe I would have lived in harmony with the Grey family, or maybe they would have seen me as an unfit mother due to my unemployment and young age and would have tried to take custody of their only grandchild.

Honestly, none of that mattered now because I _didn't_ come back to Seattle. I didn't show up at Christian's front door with a positive pregnancy test, and I didn't keep in contact with anyone from my old life aside from my family. My choices may not have been the wisest, but I made them and couldn't go back in time to change them. Now, I just needed to fix the problems I'd made.

"Mia, I was _twenty-two_. I'd had a real job for less than a week before my boss tried to have sex with me in the break room, and it wasn't like I had a lot of employment options after majoring in English. And suddenly, I was going to be responsible for a child. When I met Christian, it was very clear that he didn't want children, and I didn't want them until I had things settled everywhere else in my life," I ran my fingers through my hair, "I planned on telling him. I really did, but I just kept putting it off. And time goes so fast when you're trying to put your life together, and before I knew it, Theodore was born. I messed up. I _really messed up_," I grimaced as I thought about all of the opportunities I had to find Christian and tell him about our child, "I regret it more than you can ever understand. But now, all I want is to make a family for Theodore. I want Christian and Theo to make up for their lost time, and I want him to have the opportunity to get to know his aunts, too…" I stared at them, waiting for Mia and Kate to say something, but now that I wanted them to talk, they were completely silent.

Suddenly, Kate picked her purse up from the ground and stood, causing Mia and I to stare at her, "Come on, we're going shopping. If we don't leave now, we'll be late for our lunch reservation," Kate started walking towards the door, and Mia apologetically looked back at me with a weak smile before getting up and following Kate.

At the doorway, Kate stopped abruptly, nearly causing Mia to run into her, and she looked back to me, "_Well?_ Aren't you coming?"

_**Christian Grey**_,

"Are you sure it is okay if I go?" Anastasia stared at me for approval as she finished cleaning the sticky syrup residue off of Theodore's cheeks, and I hesitated.

Of course, it wasn't _okay_. While Anastasia was asleep, I'd planned a day full of family bonding to make up for how much of a jackass I'd been last night. We were supposed to start it after breakfast, and by the end of the day, I hoped that we would be on even playing field to begin our new life as a family. And I certainly didn't want Katherine to further pollute Ana's opinion of me.

But Anastasia seemed so excited to be in Kate's good favor again, and Mia was so eager to get to know the mother of her only nephew. Besides, Anastasia was not mine. Despite offering my proposition on the plane, I had not renewed it, and she had not accepted it. Aside from the fact I _wanted_ to control Ana and that she'd almost been mine once before, I had no actual claim on her, and a show of strength would only drive her away right now.

Besides, I could also prove to myself that I was capable of caring for my son. For crying out loud, there were single fathers out there who were completely responsible for multiple children. I could do it, too. It was only for a few hours.

_A lot could go wrong in _less_ than an hour, _a small voice of doubt crept in, but I maintained a confident exterior for Anastasia.

"Of course, enjoy yourself. Theodore and I will meet you after lunch," my voice was edging on concern as all of the possibilities of what could go wrong went through my head.

The designer hadn't finished babyproofing the apartment. What if he got hurt on the stairs or climbed into the elevator when I wasn't looking? What would happen if he ran into my glass coffee table? Would it break and cut him?

I made a mental note to have the interior designer buy a new coffee table and to have Andrea arrange for professional "baby-proofers" to have their way with the apartment in New York and Escala.

"Christian, are you okay?" Anastasia raised her eyebrows as she noticed my expression change, and before I could answer, Kate cut in.

"He's fine. We need to hurry up, or we'll lose our reservation to have you fit for your dress, Ana. Mia is already downstairs waiting on the car," Kate leaned over my kitchen island, flipping through one of the wedding magazines from her endless supply of wedding-themed reading material. Since my brother proposed to Kate seven months ago, the only time I'd seen her not holding something about the wedding was during the engagement party I'd hosted for them on my yacht where she'd simply talked about it constantly instead.

After shooting a lingering glare to Katherine, I looked back to Anastasia, "Enjoy yourself, Miss Steele," I reached for her free hand and pressed a tender kiss to it, enjoying her smooth, flawless skin. A shy smile spread across her lips, and I beamed in response.

"Gag me, please," Kate interrupted, glaring at me impatiently, and after shooting Kate a dirty look, Anastasia timidly removed her hand from mine before kissing Theodore's cheek.

"Be good for Daddy. I'll see you after lunch, Baby."

"Bye, bye, Mommy," Theodore grinned, making Anastasia's smile widened.

"If you need any help, you have my number, and I left the number for Curtis, my assistant, and Essie, his nanny, on coffee table," Ana assured me, not looking particularly confident in my ability to handle this, but Kate didn't give her any time to reconsider.

After Kate announced that Mia texted her that the car was waiting, she hurried Ana to the elevator, and just like that, I was alone with Theodore.

_Do not panic. Do not panic_, I took a deep breath, doing everything I could to calm myself, _If I panic, then bad shit happens. So, don't fucking panic_.

Once I felt collected, I turned around with a warm smile, and I felt my stomach drop as I saw Theodore crawling on the counter towards the knife set sitting on the counter.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck!_ I quickly scooped Theodore into my arm, shoving the knife set into an upper cabinet I knew he couldn't reach. My apartment is a deathtrap.

I picked up my blackberry and shot a text to Andrea, _Find a baby-proofing company in Seattle and Manhattan ASAP._ I pressed send and adjusted Theodore in my arms. He stared up at me expectantly, and I tried to think of something we could do.

"Hey, Teddy, do you want to go to the park?" I suggested. Kids like parks, right?

"Yes, Dah-duh" Theodore nodded excitedly, and I relaxed a bit. So, he likes parks. I need to remember that. Just… which park? Are children specific about the parks they like? Central park seems like a safe bet. Maybe I should ask just in case.

"Central park is alright?" I asked as I collected my phone and wallet while walking towards the elevator.

"Car-ooooooh-sel! Carousel!" Theodore clapped from excitement, and I let out a sigh of relief that he liked that park and that I now knew what to do when we got there. Once inside of the elevator, Theodore began to bop his head along to the elevator music, playing with the buttons on my collar.

It had been ages since I was in the lobby of my Manhattan building. Taylor always took the car to the garage, and I was never in New York long enough to be coming in and out of it by foot. In fact, I had no idea how to get anywhere from the lobby. I was tempted to ask some employee for help, but I decided instead to just use Google Maps.

As I navigated the bustling city, I was surprised by how well behaved Theodore was. He didn't cry and just politely looked at the people walking past us.

"Dahh-duh!" Theodore spoke, making me jump, and I looked down to see him staring at me, "Juice-Juice!" Theodore pointed at a random vender, and I felt a small panic rise in my stomach. He wanted orange juice last time he asked for Juice-Juice. Was he expecting orange juice again, or did Juice-Juice apply to all juices?

I stopped at the vendor, "One black coffee and a juice," I used my spare hand to get my wallet from my back pocket, and the vendor stared at me with genuine disinterest. I could always count on New Yorkers to not give a shit about my arrival.

"Apple or orange?" the vendor handed me my cup of coffee while opening the cooler to reveal the assorted bottles for sale. Which one had less sugar? Is it organic? Does Anastasia care if the juice is organic or not? Shit, why is getting juice so fucking complicated?

"App! App!" Theodore pointed to the apple juice, and the vendor handed me an apple juice, taking my five dollar bill in exchange. After muttering for him to keep the change, I tried to quickly open the apple juice without spilling my coffee, and once I did, Theodore clapped in excitement, "Appy Juice!" his small hands attempted to wrap around the large bottle of apple juice, and I placed my thumb underneath it to support it as he gulped the liquid down.

_Hell, I hope he has a good bladder, too… _

Half-way through the juice and only one fourth into my coffee, we reached central park, and I adjusted him in my arms as I looked for the carousel. Holding Theodore for an extended period of time could give Bastille's strength workouts a run for their money, and for a brief moment, I considered putting Theodore down so I could give my arms a break.

Just as fast as the word "kidnap" came into my mind, the idea of putting Theo down left it. I needed to increase security for Theodore. Any jackass could see him as a ransom payday, and there was no way in hell I was going to let that happen. I should at least have the nanny briefed in self-defense and semi-armed while out with Theodore.

"What would you like to do, Teddy? There are swings or the lake-" I was cut off by Theodore wriggling out of my arms and bolting down the walkway.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck, the toddler can run. Fast, too. How do such tiny legs move so fucking fast?_ I raced after him, abandoning my coffee cup on the sidewalk in the process. Even though I managed to catch him before he could get too far, I was terrified and furious.

"Theodore, don't run away from me! You'll give me a heart attack," I found myself running my fingers through his copper curls. Was that sending him a mixed message? I hoped not because it was the only thing keeping me from flipping out.

Theodore stared at me for what felt like an eternity, and he rested his head on my shoulder in a sign of affection. My cold, dark heart warmed for a tender moment, and in that tender moment, I realized that he was the same light to my darkness that Anastasia had been so many years ago.

"Sorry, Dah-duh," Teddy murmured into my shoulder, and I kissed the top of his head, savoring the scent of his green apple shampoo. He smelled like Ana…

"It's alright," I assured him, "Just don't _ever_ do that again. Something bad could happen. I love you, Theodore, and I don't want anything to happen to you."

Theodore seemed to mull over my words, or maybe he was just wondering what the hell I'd done with his apple juice. Either way, he must have come to a conclusion because he timidly asked, "Carousel?"

Right, that's what we'd come here for.

I held out my arms to carry him again, but he shook his head very decidedly, "I do it," he announced as took my hand and started to pull me towards the carousel. He was just as stubborn as his father…

* * *

**Honestly, I had writer's block on how to write this. I had it all planned and then got distracted while moving. After the moving date came and past, my laptop was crushed by boxes. Then, the flashdrive with what I had already written for this chapter was packed somewhere, and the laptop I ordered took a long time to come in (I absolutely love it though!) So this has been a roller coaster to get this chapter out. I wished this chapter had come out better (it seems kind of like fluff now), but I will try harder next time. In fact, next time they should be going to Seattle! **

**I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and please review/favorite/follow! If you want to be warned about delays, etc., follow me on twitter or visit me on my website (links in my profile). **


	13. Fifty Shades of a Dress Fitting

_**Fifty Shades of Secrets**_

**Chapter Thirteen: Fifty Shades of a Dress Fitting**

* * *

**Anastasia Steele,**

"Ouch!" I winced as the busy seamstress poked me while drawing in the waist of the _blush (_I'd already been corrected when I called it _pink)_ and black gown the bridesmaids were expected to wear on the day of Kate's wedding. In the mere fifteen minutes since I'd been escorted to the fitting area of a trendy New York bridal boutique, I'd been stabbed with pins at least twenty times, and I was reaching the point of just wearing a baggy dress and putting a tight belt on to hold it up or even gaining the necessary weight for this to fit.

But no matter my discomfort, I needed to put up with it.

Kate had been my best friend all through college, and after everything we'd been through, I needed to just shut my mouth and suck it up for the sake of our friendship. This was for Kate's wedding, and it'd be a day she'd always remember. I was not going to be the one who created a problem. If Kate was still the same girl I knew years ago, her wedding was going to be perfect. She wouldn't tolerate anything less.

Besides, this wedding was very important to the Grey family. While they may not want _me_ to be a member of their family, Theodore was their grandson, and after withholding him for so long, I had to assure that things started on the right foot. Even if that meant an uncomfortable fitting….

Finally, as if suddenly hearing my protests to the careless seamstress, Kate and Mia peaked over the elaborate wedding binder to watch me in the mirror-filled room. Mia, unable to hold it in, started to snicker.

"What did you say when she stabbed me, Kate? Oh right, _'Beauty is pain_,'" Mia teased Kate, and Kate rolled her eyes as she stood up and walked towards me.

"You look great, Ana," Kate smiled reassuringly at me, "I know this isn't really _fun_, but it means a lot to me that you're going to be in my wedding. After you left Seattle, I never thought this would happen," Kate shook her head, laughing, and at that moment, I could remember the vivacious freshman I'd met at Freshman orientation who was so happy to find someone not intimated to silence by her.

Despite what most people thought about Kate, there was a side to Kate that was insecure, sweet, and even _human_. It just took a bit of digging sometimes to find, but I felt like I was seeing it now.

"Miss Kavanaugh?" a twenty-something peaked into the fitting room, tossing her perfectly smooth, pastel-colored hair over her shoulder, "Agitha Evans is on the phone for you," the woman seemed proud to say the name, letting me know that she must have been pretty important in the realm of weddings.

Kate loved to be on top of the trends, and she seemed to bask in the appreciation this twenty-something had for her for having _Agitha Evans _on the phone for her.

"Ahh, the wedding planner. I'll be right back," Kate squeezed my shoulder before smoothing her dress and walking out of the room to accept the call as if it was a business meeting that required her full attention.

Mia rolled her eyes as she placed the binder on the loveseat beside her, and she leaned forward as if we were teenagers and she was telling me some cafeteria gossip. "You know, they were going to practically elope at first," Mia laughed, and my eyes widened in disbelief. I couldn't imagine Kate ever missing an opportunity to be the star of it all.

"Elope? _Kate_?" I laughed, and as if silently telling me to stop, the seamstress stabbed me again with a pin.

"Well, elope by Kate standards. They were going to lease a Chateau with thirty guests, stay for a week, have the wedding, and then run off to Monte Carlo for the honeymoon," Mia shook her head, laughing, "Then, she ran into one of her journalist friends who works for Seattle Met and got this offer to have a short little piece on her wedding in it. Next thing you know, Seattle Met and some bridal magazine her dad owns are doing huge spreads about it," Mia giggled, adding a roll of the eyes as she said, "It is supposed to _'show the best that Seattle has to offer_' or some bullshit."

"Seattle Met?" While I hadn't lived in Seattle but for a few days, I remembered Seattle Met. Six months before we were to move to Seattle, Kate ordered subscriptions to all of Seattle's local magazines so that she'd know all of the best places to go when she got there, and Seattle Met had been one of them. "I'm sure Kate's loving it," I added, proud of my old friend for getting what she wanted.

Kate always got what she wanted. She didn't give up until she did, and I'd always admired that about her.

"Oh yeah, she definitely is," Mia stood up, walking towards me and leaning against the wall, "It all has to be perfect. I swear, this wedding will cost more than my first apartment in the city. My parents were really intimidated by it at first, but Christian insists that he and Kate's dad are splitting the bill."

"Really?" I turned slightly but stopped when the seamstress's eyes shot to me, silently daring me to move again, and I returned to my original position. Given the cold relationship between Kate and Christian, I assumed that he would have put every stumbling block he could in their way, but he was too generous for that.

_It is one of the many reasons I love him,_ I thought and froze when I realized I hadn't put that in past tense. Being in love with him again would make things to complicated, so I tried to suppress it as Mia kept talking.

"Yeah, he seem a little harsh, but he's the best big brother I could ever ask for," Mia tucked her hair behind her ear, and I could see it in her face. She was still thinking about how I'd hidden Theodore presumably because I thought that Christian was an asshole.

"Christian really is great," I wasn't sure what I could say, and when Mia looked up at me, I knew I was about to face more questions.

"So… why did you really break up? You and Christian, I mean," Mia leaned in, looking like the nosy little sister I always wanted.

I must have looked panicked because she quickly added, "I promise, I won't breathe a word of why to another soul. I'd just like to know. You are the only girl Christian's ever brought home. I know it sounds stupid, but we thought you were his saving grace, that he'd be _happy_ and know he was loved. You seemed so enamored with him," Mia bit her bright red lip.

_N. D. Fucking. A. _ I reminded myself as I looked at Mia's 'puppy dog eyes'. I glanced back at my relection as if deciding that this was a casual enough subject that I could just admire my dress during it, but I knew I was obviously freaked out. I unfortunately wore my heart on my sleeve- and always seemed to _rub my emotion on my damn face._

"Your brother is a very busy man," I tried, but I must not have been very convincing because Mia cocked her eyebrow. I stared at my fingers hesitantly added, "We wanted different things. I was ready to be with a guy who was in love with me, and your brother wasn't."

"Oh bull-shit," Mia laughed, popping a piece of gum into her mouth, "Christian _loved_ you, Anastasia. Be honest with me. I'm your son's aunt after all. I'm _family_," Mia winked, and in that moment, I could see how Christian both adored her and saw her as exasperating.

Surely, this wouldn't break the NDA if I was vague enough, right?

"Your brother wanted a very _different_ kind of relationship. Love me or not, he would have never admitted it. He wanted a girl to spend the weekend with who would leave him alone during the weekdays," I laughed, and Mia smiled, obviously surprised.

"My brother is _practically a virgin_, Ana. Hell, if he stayed single much longer, I was going to take him to a damn gay bar."

"His son proves he is _not_ either of those things," I smirked, and Mia seemed to erupt in laughter.

Mia's happy cackling was interrupted by the sudden chirping off her cell phone, and most likely expecting the call, she hurried off to it at an impressive speed in her five inch high heels. Once checking the caller ID, she quickly excused herself by explaining it was her restaurant and left me alone in the room with the seamstress.

And, just like that, for the first time since I'd woken up this morning in Christian's massive Manhattan apartment, it was silent, and I was left alone to finally breathe.

It was hardly noon, yet my head was swimming. I was overwhelmed. There had been too many questions, too much awkward small talk, and too many damn pins jabbed into my side in attempts to make up for Kate's misjudgment of my size. I'd hoped to spend the day with the two people who were most important to me, Christian and Theodore. Sure, we'd worked out our issues last night, but we were far from being a family. Hell, I'd practically thrown Christian to the wolves when I asked him to watch Theodore for the morning.

Surely, because I hadn't been called, things were alright. Christian is an adult who can run a multi-billion dollar company. He can handle a two year old who is crazy about him…. Right?

_Fuck,_ I thought, staring at my phone across the room, _Just one text_…

"Should I leave it open?" I was surprised to actually hear the voice of the seamstress, and with surprise written across my face, I looked down at her.

"What?" I pushed my hair out of my eyes to look at her better. Was this some wedding lingo or something? The seamstress's deadly serious brown eyes bore into mine as if pestering me to answer her question faster.

"For weight fluctuation," she said as if it was obvious, and I narrowed my eyes.

"Excuse me?" I cocked an eyebrow, hoping I seemed bitchy enough to make her take it back, but if she was going to, she didn't get the opportunity. The door to the dressing room swung open to reveal Kate, flipping her golden hair over her shoulder with a particularly fake apologetic expression. While Kate was excellent at most things, acting was _not_ one of them.

"Wedding Planners," Kate shrugged it off as if it was self-explanatory, but for me, it wasn't. This was the first wedding, excluding those of my mother's, I'd ever been a part of, and I was starting to understand the appeal of elopement.

The arrival of Kate made the seamstress look back at the dress and finish up whatever she was doing with all of those sharp pins, and Kate abandoned her previous work of flipping through bridal magazines and wedding binders to walk to me.

"So, what's the best place in New York for dinner?" Kate was clearly trying to act like we were back to normal, "I want to enjoy the best of this place before we fly back to Seattle tomorrow."

I couldn't help but feel relieved that Kate and Mia were going back to Seattle tomorrow. In fact, I kind of wished that they'd decide to catch an midnight flight tonight to give us some peace. I had a million and one things to do, and I was tired of trying to explain the situation between me and Christian when I hardly knew what it is in the first place.

"I'm sure we can find something great," I gave Kate a friendly smile.

_**Christian Grey**_,

There is absolutely no doubt. My son is _perfect_.

Of course, I knew very _little_ about toddlers. The last time I'd been around a toddler was twenty-something years ago when Mia still in her toddler years, and my affection for her blurred the messy bits. Even if they hadn't been blurred, Grace was a wonderful mother who handled said moments before they could ever really come to my attention. I only remember Mia's talkative nature, but we quickly came to realize that it was a trait that Mia would continue to have and that we would adjust to in time.

But that was beside the point.

Theodore is just fantastic.

Yes, he _did_ try to run away to the carrousel at the park and was verbally adamant that he wanted his juice-juice, but that was neither here nor there. This child was perfect. Had he not looked so much like me, I might have doubted that he was even mine. How could something I made be so positively amazing?

Well, his mother _is_ Ana…

And her light seemed to override my darkness when it came to the creation of Teddy. Or maybe it was just that I wasn't around to expose him to my depravity.

A deep part of me nagged to know where Teddy had been conceived. Was it in the more pure vanilla sex or in the sinister red room? Either way, I felt like I hadn't done it the right way. It was always just sex to me. Despite Ana's asking for it, I had never exactly "made love" with her. We'd had kinky-sometimes not _completely_ kinky-fuckery.

"_Christian,_" Ros's harsh, voice snapped me out of my fog. As I jumped, my macbook nearly toppled to the floor from my left, but I quickly managed to catch it before disaster struck.

"What?" I snapped back, my voice lowered to a whisper to avoid Theodore hearing me, but he was lost in the building block towers he was building. After seeing Anastasia in Puerto Rico, I had neglected my work responsibilities, and Ros had no qualms letting me know that. Initially, it was not too hard to ignore her fury and hope that, when it rained down, time had only lessened it, but now, getting a lesser punishment was practically impossible.

I was pretty sure that, if I didn't answer some of her fucking emails soon, she was having the sign on the front door changed to _Ros Enterprises_.

While I had to work, I didn't have to be away from Theodore. It was easier to bring my laptop to the chair in Theodore's room to monitor his play than to try and bring him and his entertainment with me to my office. While the designed assured me that the toys were safe for his age group, I wanted to be one hundred percent sure that Theodore was doing well and didn't let him out of my sight.

"You haven't answered my question."

Fuck, what was her question?

"Yes, I did," I was too annoyed to admit that I hadn't been paying attention, and it was easier to fight it than accept defeat.

"What did I say?" Ros was acting immature, and I had no hesitation to point it out.

"You're acting like a child," I avoided the question.

I could practically hear Ros rolling her eyes on the other line.

"I asked you to make sure that you review the reports tonight and send me your analysis, Boss. We're already behind schedule," I could hear the twinge of blame in Ros's voice. While this trip may have been extremely inconvenient to the upcoming merger, I wouldn't trade it at all. Theodore came of this, and I got a second chance with the woman I'd never gotten over. One little merger could wait.

I made a mental note for Olivia to arrange for a date night for Ros and her partner. Even if Ros wasn't going to forgive me, her partner would wear her down. I could always count on her to get me back in Ros's good graces.

"I'll do it, Ros," I made a point of sounding exasperated with her distrust, but I wasn't sure when I could fit it in. Since my day of family bonding had been ruined by the sudden arrival of Katherine, I planned on making it up to Anastasia with a lovely evening.

_I can always get up while Ana's asleep and work on it_, I thought, but Anastasia had a knack for telling when I was out of bed. But then again, I was operating on the assumption that Anastasia would let me be in the bed with her again tonight. After all, as of our agreement last night, this apartment belonged to Anastasia and Theodore, and she didn't have to let me in her bed at all.

She'd never actually answered my proposition, and it was starting to drive me crazy that she hadn't even if I hadn't given it to her again due to our change of circumstances.

"_Mommy!_" Theodore jumped up from his toy train set and did his best toddler-run towards the door, and my eyes shot up to see that Anastasia was in the hallway. She seemed utterly exhausted with my soon-to-be sister-in-law, but she was beaming as she walked towards Theodore. Dropping a shopping bag by the doorway, she picked up Theodore and pressed a kiss to the side of his head.

I was constantly amazed by how good of a mother Anastasia was. It was inspiring and yet extremely intimidating. When Theodore was used to such a spectacular parent, how could he ever love me in the same way?

"Mmm, there's my baby boy. Were you good for Daddy?" Anastasia smoothed his copper curls as she looked up at me, and I smiled coolly, standing up as if I was confident that it had been an utterly successful day.

"We had a great day at the park," I smiled, leaving out the minor details such as him nearly getting to my knife set, trying to run away at the park, and convincing me to buy him cotton candy that, in retrospect, was most likely _not_ the best choice. But how could I say no to him? I never want him to feel like I did at his age, neglected and unwanted, and if getting him the blue raspberry cotton candy and sugary apple juice demonstrated my love to him, then so be it.

"Car-ooooooh-sel!" Theodore added, and Anastasia glanced back at me, genuinely impressed. Obviously, she had expected failure as much as I had.

"Sounds like a lot of fun, Baby," Anastasia kissed the top of his head, and Mia, who was lugged down in bags from various trendy stores in Manhattan, dramatically dropped her bags in the hallway and walked towards Theodore.

"Hey, Cutie," Mia went straight into Aunt-Mode. I knew she'd always loved children and had pushed her two older brothers to have some so that she could get her "baby fix" before she was ready to have her own, but I was still shocked that she could so easily fall into this role. Could _everyone_ a natural except for me?

Theodore- obviously a _great_ judge of character, which is another feather in his cap- seemed to already love Mia as he waved at her.

"I'm your Aunt Mia, Theodore," Mia stroked his hair, beaming as she began to talk to him about everything from his room to his favorite things to do at the park. I was eager to listen in to every word. There was still a lot I needed to know about my son, but Kate, who was the last to come in the bedroom, stopped me from being able to listen in.

"So, you're really going to do this?" she whispered, idly twirling her engagement ring as she looked at me. It was as if she was silently trying to remind me that I would be stuck with her in my family for the duration of her marriage to my brother and that I needed to take that into consideration before I was too rude to her.

"Do what?" I was already tired of this conversation- and of _her_.

"_Play house?"_ Kate smirked, "You don't seem like _the type_."

Play house?

What the fuck does she think this is?

My eyes narrowed, "I plan on being involved in my son's life, yes."

Finally sensing my hostility, Kate put her hand on her hip, lowering her voice, "Listen. Anastasia is a good person and has a good son. I don't want them getting hurt when you realize you're not cut out for it."

"That _good son_ is mine, too," I wanted to kill Kate- or _at least_ get out a damn cane- , but as Anastasia peaked over Mia's shoulder to see if Kate and I were getting along, I found myself relaxing enough to grant mercy on Kavanaugh.

"I've just had the best idea," Mia announced, looking rather pleased with herself as she turned around to the two of us, "Why don't I make dinner tonight? We can all spend time with Theodore before Kate and I leave for Seattle tomorrow."

_They're going tomorrow?_

I felt a wave of relief spread through my body. I was eager to get rid of Kate again. Before the vacation to Puerto Rico, it had always been easy to avoid her, and I'd sparingly even seen Kate in the last year. I hoped that my new busy schedule going back and forth from Manhattan to Seattle would make our visits even shorter and more infrequent.

"You two aren't coming with us?" Kate looked at Anastasia and I with an insincere amount of shock, "I thought you'd want Theodore to meet everyone else."

Oh no, no, no.

Anastasia remained silently, looking at me for an answer, and I could tell she wanted to stay just as much as I did.

"We're going on Friday," I announced definitively.

"Then what are we supposed to do? We can't lie to Grace and Carrick by not telling them about Theodore, and we can't just tell them so that they have to wait until Friday," Kate tilted her head, trying to look like the innocent party who was stuck in a bad situation of our making.

"The three of us have plans." It wasn't exactly a lie. I had plans for the three of us to spend "family time" together tomorrow to make up for how today had been ruined by Kate and Mia's arrival.

"These are your _parents_, Christian. Don't you think they deserve to meet their grandchild?" Kate pulled a dirty card, and honestly, I was frozen in shock that she would even hit that hard.

I looked to Anastasia and saw it written on her face.

Kate's scheme was working.

Anastasia thought we should go.

"Fine," I frowned, "We'll think about it over dinner," I didn't want to step down, but Kate had just won.

* * *

_**So, they are going to Seattle! How do you think that'll go? Please review about what you think about this chapter or the next! **_

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**It has almost been two months. I am so, so sorry.**

**My life has been crazy in those last two months, and while I know I say that a lot, it is true. New school, schoolwork, family illnesses, intense weather, moving, creating an update for a different story, etc. It has all seemed to hit in this timeframe, and my writing suffered. I kept losing my train of thought and starting this chapter again and again. This is not the best chapter. I know there are grammatical mistakes and that this is fluff, but I really wanted to get a chapter out there. To make up for taking so long, I am working on the next chapter of Fifty Shades of Secrets immediately! This story is far from over! **

* * *

_**Also, for those who read Love is the Strongest of All, I am already working on the next update for the story after a very long hiatus. I am going to try to create a satisfying ending for the third installment of the You've Got Mail series, and it is very hard. I love these characters and their storyline, but it is so hard to work it into such an intense last few weeks. Once things get settled, you can count on seeing an update! **_


	14. Fifty Shades of Coming Back Home

_**Fifty Shades of Secrets**_

**Chapter Fourteen: Fifty Shades of Coming Back Home**

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_**Anastasia Steele**_**,**

"Mrs. Grey?" a timid whisper broke through the barrier of sleep, idly entering my exhausted mind.

Instinctively, I ignored it, mumbling something incoherent and clutching Theodore closer to me. I felt like I hadn't properly slept in the longest time, and honestly, _I hadn't._ After calling Christian when I was drunk in Puerto Rico, I hadn't gotten a good night's rest, and I desperately wanted it.

"Mrs. Grey?" the voice was back and seemingly determined to get me up.

With a small groan, my eyes fluttered open to see the source of my unwanted awakening. A petite blonde flight attendant was crouched down to whisper to me, looking nervous to be talking to me in the first place. Surely, if she thought I was Mrs. Grey, she must have thought that I was also her boss. When I started to wake up, she stood up straighter, instinctively smoothing her charcoal uniform as if to make the best first impression, but considering she just woke me up, the chances of that were slim to none.

"Yes?" my confusion seeped into my voice as I tried to sit up a little more, careful not to wake Theodore who was still nuzzled into me as he blissfully slept. I caught a glimpse of the time and grimaced. It was already nearly six am, and the sun seemed to practically _attack_ me as it beamed through the windows of Christian's private jet.

"We're landing in fifteen minutes, Mrs. Grey. May I offer you coffee or tea?"

I tried to process what she said and gave the friendliest smile I could manage, "Thank you. Please call me Ana. I'm… I'm not really Mrs. Grey," I admitted awkwardly, looking around the jet. Mia and Kate were both passed out, their expensive dresses crinkled from sleeping in the plane seats, and I vaguely realized that I, too, had fallen asleep in a plane seat. Christian's bed was _much_ more comfortable, and I wished I could have slept there instead.

_Preferably with naked Christian as well…_

"Oh, I'm sorry," the flight attendant looked embarrassed, and with flushed cheeks, she nodded goodbye and started to walk away.

"Um, where is Mr. Grey?" I wiped at my sleepy eyes, noting his absence.

"In the bedroom. I believe he is working on something," the flight attendant, whose nametag I now saw said _Rose_ in a no-nonsense, Christian-Grey-Approved font, looked completely terrified that I would ask her to get him for me, and even though I wished she would, I didn't want to make her feel any worse.

"Thanks," I smiled softly, letting Rose walk away before I could make her any more nervous.

With extreme care, I lifted Theodore up as I stood, and I gently put him back on the seat, making sure that he was carefully buckled in case of turbulence or whatever awful event I could come up with. After giving birth to Theodore, I had become even more terrified of random events than before, becoming the absolute Queen of "Just In Case Parenting."

As I started towards the bedroom of Christian's jet, I began to realize that I must have looked like hell.

After Kate began her guilt trip this afternoon, it had been a blur. While it had been fantastic to see Mia and Theodore click immediately, it only seemed to add fuel to the fire as far as Kate was concerned, and she happened to be so intense that, by the end of dinner, Christian and I caved. Sometime around midnight, we all climbed into town cars and raced to JFK where the private jet was waiting. Theodore slept during the whole ride and only woke up for a brief time to charm the flight attendant before falling asleep in my arms. About an hour later, I passed out without even getting out of my jeans or wiping off the make-up I'd been put in to test out looks for the wedding.

Trying not to think about it too much, I gently knocked at the door of the separate bedroom in Christian's private jet, and I suddenly got scared that he didn't want me around. When Christian was busy, he could be antsy but adding in lack of sleep could make him a full on hellion. Fuck, what if he _was_ sleeping and I'd just woken him up?

I was about to hurry back to my seat when I heard Christian's sultry voice on the other side of the door, "Miss Steele, come in."

I opened the door and nearly swallowed my tongue. Christian wore exhaustion and yesterday's suit like a man used to late night trysts, but in his case, I knew it was late night meetings and workouts to burn off his energy for when he didn't have a sub around.

It felt strange to think about Christian as the dom and me the sub after everything in the last few days. The man who had offered to start a real relationship with me, had cared for our son wonderfully, and even suppressed his urge to kill Kate in the presence of Theodore couldn't possibly be the same man who had once dreamed of hanging me from a ceiling and caning me.

Part of me worried that the Christian I'd gotten to know in the last few days only existed outside of Seattle, far away from his skyscrapers and his red room. What would happen when he was back in his city, surrounded by his infinite power and kinky lifestyle? The ball was no longer in my home court, and it terrified me.

Up until now, Christian was in my world. We were in my city, temporarily in my apartment, and near everything I'd gotten to know in the last few years. But now, not only was I returning to Seattle for the first time since I ran crying from the red room, I was also going to see Christian's family to tell them that I had been hiding their one and only grandchild in Manhattan.

As Christian's eyes drifted up to me from his laptop with those magnificent grey eyes, I lost my focus on anything other than him.

Closing the door behind me, I gave Christian a small smile, "How'd you know it was me?" I was relieved that he was not asleep, and I slowly walked towards him, tempted to sit on his bed. But considering that there was only one time where we'd been on the bed and not ended up ripping off each other's clothing, I thought it was better to stand.

"Everyone else would have been a bit more polite about interrupting me," Christian's voice as playful despite the early hours, and I did a double take. Not noticing my amazed expression, he added, "I thought you would be asleep."

"I was… But the flight attendant woke me," I admitted, and Christian's voice shifted as he closed his laptop.

"She woke you up?" Christian repeated, sounding somewhat angry, and I quickly tried to backtrack.

"No, no, it's fine. We were about to land, that's all," I squirmed, wanting playful Christian back, "When did you come back in here?"

Christian looked up at me, his expression full of unexpressed anger for me being woken up, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he just shut his laptop and told me, "A few hours ago. I needed to go over a report Ros sent."

"Wait, you didn't sleep?" I stared at him incredulously. How the hell did he not sleep? Even though I'd been lucky enough to catch some sleep, I was _still_ exhausted.

"It's alright, Anastasia," he seemed to almost be laughing at my reaction, yet I had no idea why. He stood, reaching for the suit jacket draped along a nearby chair, and as he slid into it, he stood closer to me, and I felt a wave of nostalgia of our nights together.

Christian looked down at me with an expression I was sure mirrored my own as his blazing eyes bore into mine, and I felt my breath catch as he stepped so close that I could feel his warm breath on my skin.

"Are you okay, Miss Steele?" a smirk spread across Christian's sexy lips, and I flushed, squirming beneath his delicious gaze. But, before anything more could happen, I heard a voice that I was starting to hate.

"Ana? We're about to land."

Almost simultaneously, Christian and I groaned, and I mentally cursed caving in to Kate's demand. If I had more of a backbone, I wouldn't have pushed Christian to agree with Kate to go to Seattle. I would be fast asleep in Manhattan, and my day could have involved a number of much better things like planning my move to Christian's apartment or checking up on my injured nanny or- and dare I say this- enjoying time with my son and his father.

When I left Christian's room, I was practically fuming as I let my mind wander to the possibilities of today had I stayed in New York.

I could be, obviously, _sleeping_. Or actually watching a movie without multitasking work and a toddler. Or going to the park without balancing a conference call. Maybe I could have been in bed with Christian-

I stopped at that thought, scolding myself, and when Kate looked at me, it was like she practically saw through my expression and had very clear disdain for it.

With a blush growing on my cheeks, I went back to my seat, buckling up and making sure that Theodore was buckled up, too. Luckily, we started the descent quickly enough that Kate didn't say a word about my _"I-Want-To-Fuck-My-Messed-Up-Ex-Face."_

Christian didn't leave the bedroom until the plane had completely grounded, and when he did, he was dressed well and sporting a seemingly heavy briefcase like it was the weight of my cellphone. Slowly, Christian scooped Theodore into his arms, making sure that he stayed asleep while he balanced the toddler and bag effortlessly, and I could practically feel my ovaries burst…

Mia stretched slowly, and with the daylight slowly trickling in, she looked like an ad for chic sportswear that always ended up sweaty on me but looked flawless on her. At some point after I'd fallen asleep, she'd changed into yoga pants and a tank top for a local yoga studio that was all the craze in Seattle. I nearly felt a pang of jealousy that Mia could wake up and look good enough to be on a magazine while I looked like I just looked like I was in need of caffeine.

"And my vacation is officially over," Mia smiled, giving me a quick hug, "I'm going to run downtown to check on the restaurant. You could meet me if you want?" Mia suggested, looking eager for me to come, "There's this great yoga studio we could pop into if you're interested."

I was tempted to go so that I could have one Grey on my side tonight, but honestly, I just wanted to get out of these clothes and get a shower.

"Thanks, but I'm a little jet lagged. Some other time though," I suggested, and with a wide grin, she nodded.

"I'd love that. Take care of my boys, okay," she winked at me before walking towards Christian and Theodore, leaving a big kiss on the latter's cheek. "See you tonight, big brother."

"Your car is waiting, Mia," Christian tried to seem annoyed, but no matter how hard he tried, he always seemed patient and loving with his sister. I wish that personality extended to me sometimes…

Mia rolled her eyes and turned back to Kate. "Come on, your apartment is on the way to the restaurant. You're coming with me."

Kate seemed unhappy with this, and I suddenly realized that she had probably been planning on going back to Escala with us.

_Back to Escala_.

The words set in slowly, letting me relive the times I'd been in Escala and all of the times I'd wanted to go right back. I'd never imagined that I would be going back there, especially with Theodore _and _Christian in tow, and I had to pinch myself under my jacket to remind myself that it was actually happening.

"I'll see all three of you tonight," Kate raised an eyebrow as if daring us to defy her, and just like that, she was gone.

Without realizing it, I let out a sigh of relief and looked up at Christian who was equally as relieved.

"We're in Seattle," I mumbled as if just now realizing it, and Christian nodded slowly.

"We are."

"And we're going back to Escala?" I swallowed, feeling an unfamiliar, nervous sensation prickle at my skin.

"Is that not alright?" Christian knit his eyebrows together, and I thought about his question.

_Stop being such a baby. For fuck's sake, you faced childbirth. Going into an apartment isn't going to kill you_, I told myself and shook my head.

"No, it's alright. Just… uh, feels weird," I stammered, noticing that I was now staring at my feet.

I'd been in Seattle for less than an hour, and I was already starting to revert back into the old Ana.

"You looked panicked," Christian stared at me, and I realized that I was, in fact, _panicked_. For absolutely no reason at all.

"Mr. Grey?"

I was relieved when I looked back to see the flight attendant standing near the door, and she nearly melted in fear as Christian's icy stare shot to her. He clearly didn't like being interrupted when he was about to get me to admit something.

"Yes?" he snapped.

"Mr. Taylor has arrived with your car, Sir," Rose's voice shook, and I gave her a smile, hoping to calm her. But considering she now knew I was not Mrs. Grey, my approval of her didn't seem to matter nearly as much.

Christian muttered something along the lines of a bitter thank you as he stormed outside. As usual, it was _raining_ when I stepped foot on the cement, and I immediately remembered why my hair had been so damn frizzy when I lived here. Christian opened an umbrella quickly, keeping Theodore and I dry as we walked towards the black town car waiting for us a couple of hundred feet away.

As soon as we were visible to the car, a familiar face stepped out of the driver's seat, and I smiled softly at him. His buzz cut was just as extreme, his body just as muscular, and his expression as emotionless and army-approved as possible. And I _loved_ it.

Taylor's eyes widened as he saw me and the toddler in Christian's arms, yet he stayed silent as he opened the backseat for the three of us. He held another umbrella and motioned for me to get in.

"Miss Steele," he smiled softly as I got in, and I let out a small laugh as I noticed the car seat sitting in the middle of the backseat. I expected Christian to give me Theodore so that I could go ahead and strap him in, but Christian and Taylor walked around to the other side with my son in tow.

When Christian got in, Theodore was just starting to stir, and Christian slowly put him in the car seat before staring at the various straps with a panicked expression.

I playfully cocked an eyebrow as I whispered, "You're telling me you don't know how to strap someone in?" I teased, and he let out a laugh that made my knees weak.

"That's _different_. This is for his protection, Anastasia," Christian explained and motioned towards the safety warning as if it was proof. I noticed that, as to be expected, the price of this car seat was that of about a year of rent in my first apartment.

Despite all of the complicated protection features, I figured it out quickly enough, and I rolled my eyes as I started to buckle the safety belts on Theodore's car seat. Christian moved closer to me, his breath hot on my ear, and in the smoothest, most sensual way possible, Christian whispered, "Did you just roll your eyes at me, Miss Steele? From what I remember, there are consequences for that…"

And just like that, it was like no time had passed.

I was still a young girl completely in love with Christian Grey who wanted have sex with him even if I feared what came along with it, and it scared me to death.

"Mommy…" Theodore's voice was full of sleep, and it allowed a distraction for the twenty minute drive from the airport to the lavish apartment building that Christian called home. We pointed to different Seattle landmarks, enjoying the genuine interest and amazement that filled his big blue eyes. Seeing Seattle with Theodore made me suddenly appreciate it in a way I'd never bothered to before.

Until now, Seattle was only Christian. It was the red room and his soft bed and his perfect touch and his the way he seemed to light my body on fire when he looked at me, but with Theodore sitting beside me, Seattle was not just Christian but the two of us together- and the person we created during that brief time.

When Taylor drove into the Escala parking lot and stopped the car, I forced myself not to think about the previous times I'd been in this parking lot. If I was going to survive this weekend in Seattle, I couldn't think about the past. I felt my stomach lurch as I remembered that this was the first of many weekends in Seattle.

Busying myself with unbuckling Theodore, I let Christian explain that we were visiting daddy's house, which was also now Theodore's house (and Christian most certainly shot me a look at the last part).

I could hardly get upstairs to Escala. How could I _live_ here like Christian wanted me to?

I felt nearly suffocated by the enormity of the space as the elevator dinged open, and I swallowed hard as I stepped inside.

It was… _the same_.

I'd expected things to be different. Maybe there had been a new kitchen renovation or _at least_ new curtains. But no.

There was the kitchen I made Christian breakfast in. And there's the place where I first met his lovely mother. And fuck, I lost my virginity and conceived my son somewhere around here.

All at once, I needed a bath and nap and a good round of kickboxing with the trainer at the office gym.

Christian stepped inside, eyeing me slowly as if waiting for some response, but I was speechless as I followed him through the entrance and towards the stairs. "Theodore, would you like to see your room?" Naturally, Theodore giggled happily in response, and I stopped mid-way to the bedroom.

The red room.

My mouth went dry and slack, and instinctively, my fingertips brushed along the doorknob. Considering I'd always told myself that I was terrified of this place, I was practically buzzing to be near it again. My inner goddess seemed to wake up and stretch her muscles again, breaking through the devoted single mother/publisher life I'd lived for so long.

"Anastasia?"

I jumped, pulling my hand away and tucking it back at my side as my eyes flew to Christian. I'd expected him to be laughing at me or angry that I was steering to a place where I shouldn't be, but he just stared at me with genuine shock.

"Do you know what door that is?" he asked finally, his blazing grey eyes locking on mine, and I nodded my head slowly.

Of course I knew this door. I would go to my grave with the image of that room permanently engrained in my mind, and I ached to know if that room had changed. A jealous pang burned inside of me to know who else had been in here after me- and honestly, _before_ me. I couldn't imagine any other girl being there with him, but could I really see myself there?

Things had changed, sure. I lived half-way across the world, had a successful career, and a _child_. But I still didn't know if I could be the girl Christian needed.

"The Red Room of Pain," I murmured, and he tilted his head.

"Red Room of _Pain_?" Christian repeated, stepping towards me, "There's a very fine line between pain and pleasure, Anastasia. They are two sides of the same coin, one not existing without the other." By now, he was so close to me that I could breathe in the sharp scent of cinnamon mint and the deliciously masculine air to his aftershave, and I nearly melted right into the damn door.

"_Mommy_!" Theodore called out, toddling toward us from his bedroom with a teddy bear nearly double his size wearing a shirt with _Theodore Raymond Steele Grey_ written in the same no-nonsense flight of Rose's nametag. Letting out a light sigh that was either of frustration or relief (I honestly couldn't tell anymore), I walked towards Theodore and crouched down to admire the teddy bear.

"Oh, that's so cool, isn't it, Teddy?" I stroked his hair slowly and felt the sensation of coming off the high of being near the red room, of being near _Christian_ near the _red room_ to be precise, and it only made me more exhausted.

"I'm hungry," Theodore told me idly as he kept playing with this giant bear, and Christian's ears perked up.

"Mrs. Jones is off today. We can get waffles," Christian suggested, knowing I would react to that. What happened in Savannah popped up in my memory, and I froze.

Oh hell no. No more emotional significance. I needed rest.

"I think I'm going to get a shower and maybe a little bit of sleep. Could you bring me back something?" I asked, knowing Christian was going to have a fit if I didn't eat _something_ soon.

Christian was hesitant, but I must have looked as drained as I felt because he nodded his head in agreement. "There are some clothes in your room, and Taylor will bring up your luggage," Christian added, and I was stunned into silence. He had clothes for me here and my old room?

After letting me kiss my son's cheek, Christian carefully took Theodore down the stairs and left Escala with our toddler in tow. And I was back in his castle in the clouds, tucked away from the rest of the world in our own universe where every inch of his sprawling penthouse reminded me of the mistakes we'd made.

_**Christian Grey**_,

To my relief, I did get the "family time" I'd hoped to have in Manhattan albeit different than I expected.

Breakfast went surprisingly well considering I didn't have Anastasia's guidance as to Theodore's preferences. I took him to a trendy dinner that was a few blocks from my apartment that, despite being full of hipsters, was toddler friendly and immediately liked by Theodore. Theodore and I let Anastasia catch up on her sleep for most of the morning with Teddy playing while I had a conference call. About ten thirty, Anastasia emerged from her room and even made lunch for us.

For a moment, it felt like this was the new reality. Perhaps I could be part of a family. After all, I _did_ have a son now who was, quite frankly, my world. I wanted them to live with me. I wanted Saturday mornings to be spend like this, but they were leaving Sunday night. My only solace was that they were at least in my secure building where I knew they were comfortable and not exposed to the asbestos I was convinced was hiding in Anastasia's pre-war building.

But, at about three, Mia popped the bubble by calling to remind us that dinner at my parent's house was scheduled for six. I was tempted to call my parents and warn them. Surely, that would be better than just showing up at their house with Anastasia and our son. I wanted the best possible relationship between my for my son with his grandparents, and I doubted that him witnessing their shock would be the best thing to help that.

Yet, as I finished dressing, my fingers hesitated on phone.

An uncomfortable feeling settled on my stomach as I realized that I had no idea what to do. I'd always had a plan. Even if it was not the best course of action, there was always something I could do. When I realized I loved Anastasia, I decided I wanted to new boundaries and try again, but when I realized she'd run away from me, I knew to let her go and find what she needed. However, as I stared at my blackberry, I had no idea what to do. If I called my mother, I had no words. If I just showed up at their front door, I had no idea how to stand or speak or act.

A panic I only recognized from my dreams seized my chest, and I recoiled from my phone, letting it fall to the drawer of pocket squares. Raking my fingers through my hair, I paced the closet until I heard the familiar buzz of a text message, and in that moment, I was convinced that my mother somehow knew and was personally disowning me from the family like she should have years ago.

I rushed to the phone, feeling lightheaded as I skimmed the message and let out a relieved sigh.

"It's just Mia…" I told myself slowly,

_Did you already tell Mom and Dad? _As usual, Mia was straight to the point, and I found myself rolling my eyes as I grabbed my phone, walking towards Theodore and Anastasia's rooms.

_No, I didn't_, I replied, and before I could put my phone in my pocket, there was another message.

_What's the plan?_ Even through text, Mia was eager and possibly even more inquisitive.

_Don't have one_. I wanted to end this conversation quickly, so I added, _Theodore just woke up from his nap. See you at dinner_.

Before Mia could text me back with her surprise, I turned off all alerts and put my phone in my jacket pocket, and I stopped half-way up the stairs when I saw Anastasia in the hallway, leaning against the doorframe of her room to fix the strap on her shoes.

"Oh, hey…" she flushed when she saw me, "This shoe's giving me trouble," she squirmed slightly as she motioned towards the shoe, and as my eyes roamed the expanse of her lean, alabaster leg, I was tempted to praise Caroline Acton.

Just as I'd expected, the jewel tones on her flawless porcelain skin nearly took my breath away, and I could only imagine undoing all those buttons sitting on her spine. I raised my eyebrow gently, suggesting, "May I help, Miss Steele?"

Anastasia stared at me before nodding breathlessly, and I found myself smiling as I knelt down, my hand sliding down the curve of her calf and savored the sound of her sudden gasp. I took my time to carefully buckle her high heels, and when I stood, I noted that the height of her high heels left her lips closer to mine. And it didn't hurt that they looked sexy as hell.

"Are you ready for this?" Anastasia finally asked, looking utterly terrified.

"It will be alright, Anastasia," I avoided the question, "Taylor's waiting in the garage. We should probably get Theodore," I suggested, hearing his giggle down the hall. I knew that, if we didn't leave soon, I would most likely fake a late meeting and make a raincheck for lunch with my mother sometime this week to avoid this whole situation.

Anastasia nodded slowly, straightening her dress nervously before stepping into Theodore's nursery. "Theo, it's time to leave," Ana held out her arms to pick up our son, and Theodore toddled over to her as fast he possibly could. I could tell that Anastasia made an effort to clean him up. His copper curls had been subdued, and he was dressed in a blue sweater that made his bright blue eyes even more adorable.

I made a mental note to check up on the status of the baby proofing of Escala. I'd expected it to be completed by now, but there wasn't even a baby gate. My mind flooded with images of what could happen to my son in this death trap, and I found myself making note of each danger from the top of the stairs to the parking lot where Taylor was waiting.

The ride to Bellevue was surprisingly lively. While we were still in the city, Theodore led a game of I-Spy that primarily involved everything being blue, and once Theodore grew tired of that, Anastasia took out her smartphone and gave him a game to play with headphones in his ears. I expected to go silent after that, but instead, Anastasia continued to speak. It was as if she was trying to diffuse her nerves with chatter, so I indulged her by keeping the conversation going even if she seemed distracted.

"I'm sure it'll go well. My mother will be so excited to meet her first grandchild that she'll forget about everything else," I reassured Anastasia, my hand resting on her knee, and I could feel her muscles tense beneath my touch.

"Right," Anastasia's breath was shaky, and I reluctantly moved my hand away as the car pulled to a stop in front of my childhood home.

I tried to carry Theodore to the door, but as soon as we were out of the car, he insisted that he could do it. I settled on taking one of his small hands in mine while Anastasia took the other, and with my permission, Theodore excitedly pressed the doorbell, showing much more enthusiasm for this situation than either of his parents.

Just beyond the door, I could hear my sister's vivacious laugh and the clacking of someone's high heels, but most importantly, I heard my mother's smooth laugh as it drew closer and closer to the door until the familiar creek of the twisting door knob made my stomach drop to my toes.

"Christian! I've been trying to call you -" my mother immediately stopped when she opened the door to reveal the three of us. Her eyes were locked on Anastasia, not venturing down to our knees where Theodore was staring up at her, "Ana? I didn't expect you! I mean, when Mia said to set two extra seats, I thought she was bringing friends! This is lovely!" my mother looked like she could have burst from happiness at the sight of Anastasia, no doubt thinking that we were together and that I'd find the same marital bliss that my brother had magically found in Katherine.

"Mrs. Grey," Anastasia looked petrified, unsure how to handle the situation, but I didn't have time to do something before Theodore gently tugged on her dress, looking up at her as he gently whispered, "Where are we, Mommy?"

My mother's eyes widened, and she stared at Theodore with such intensity that I knew she was scanning him and comparing this little boy to the neglected Christian she'd brought into her home over twenty years ago.

"I didn't realize you had a son, Anastasia," my mother looked confused but bent down to smile at Theodore, "Hello, I'm Christian's mother. What's your name?"

_Oh fuck. _

Over my mother's shoulder, I could see the crowd slowly come to the door, looking mildly interested at what had interrupted their dinner party, and as if in slow motion, I watched as their eyes moved to my son and as their ears perked up for the words coming off of his tongue.

Before I could stop him, Theodore proudly declared, "Theoooo-dore Waymond 'Eele Grey."

Collectively, everything _dropped_. And by everything, I meant jaws, the glass water pitcher my father was bringing from the kitchen, and even my brother's smartphone.

Theodore tilted his head, looking up at me as if I had the answers as to why this was creating such a commotion, and I recognized his expression immediately. He thought their reactions were his fault. Instinctively, I picked him up and tucked him in my arms in reassurance, and this only seemed to make them stare more.

"Surprise," Anastasia murmured, finally breaking the silence.

From the back of the group, Kate actually started to laugh, earning her a silencing glare from Elliot.

My mother's eyes fluttered between the three of us, and honestly, based upon her expression, I was worried she'd faint.

"Um, Christian?" my mother looked up at me, tucking her blonde hair behind her ear, "Can we steal you to the kitchen for a moment? Anastasia, Theodore, please come in," my mother ushered us in, and the uncomfortable silence followed us.

"Of course," I finally managed, kissing Theodore's cheek and slowly handing my toddler son over to Anastasia who looked like she needed his comforting presence even more than I did.

After awkwardly looking at each other for a little bit, Mia came over to talk to Theodore, hoping to at least make him feel comfortable, and I followed my parents into the kitchen, feeling like I was a teenager who had just been caught with a bottle of whiskey and a blunt.

My parents were eerily silent as they quickly moved into the kitchen, closing the door behind them before giving me an uncomfortably stern glare.

"What was that?" my mother looked nearly panicked, and I took a deep breath.

"That was me introducing my son and his mother to my parents," I admitted, knowing there was no way to tread carefully.

"Your son? That's actually you're son? And you didn't tell us?" my mother's eyes began to water, and I felt a rush of guilt that I'd hurt the woman who'd rescued me and loved me despite being 50 shades of fucked up.

I didn't want to face her questions like Ana had faced Mia and Kate's, so I decided to dive head first. "It isn't like that. I only found out about Theodore a few days ago. I loved Anastasia, but I'm sure you can imagine that I was a terrible boyfriend. She'd been through a lot when she found out she was pregnant, and she was scared…. None of that matters now, anyway. We've agreed to make this work. I'm legally claiming paternity of Theodore, we've changed his name-"

"Have you had a paternity test?" my father cut in, and my blood went ice cold.

I was caught between my anger boiling at the implication he was clearly making and my heart breaking at the idea that this was not _my_ son. That there was some other lucky man who could claim this ray of sunshine, who would receive Theodore's love instead of me.

"This is my son," I felt my jaw tighten.

"So you haven't."

I didn't deny it, which my father took as a confirmation.

"Christian, Anastasia is a lovely girl, and Theodore seems wonderful. But you must remember that this would be… very _profitable _for the both of them," my father explained, looking angry, but his anger hardly came close to mine.

"_Profitable?_" I repeated, nearly growling.

My mother stared at my father, unsure as to how to respond to that.

"Before you do anything drastic, you need to have a paternity test," my father insisted.

"Carrick," my mother glared at him, "You saw Theodore. He was practically _Christian's twin_."

"There are other men who could look like Christian, Grace. We need to be sure," he wasn't giving up, and I desperately wanted to break something or run or whip a particularly beautiful brunette.

Suddenly, something hit the floor, and we all turned to see Mia and Anastasia standing in the doorway, a broom one of them had been holding landing with a thud at their feet. Mia looked outraged, and Anastasia looked… _ashamed_. I knew instantly that they'd overheard Carrick, and my anger escalated.

"We were just getting a broom to clean up the glass," Anastasia quickly explained, squirming and looking as though she would have gladly disappeared into thin air if it was possible, "I… Theodore is Christian's son. I've," she flushed, knotting her fingers together, "only been with one person, and that is Christian. But I understand where you're coming from. If it will make things better, I'm perfectly willing to have a paternity test."

"Well, I'm _not_," I decided, "I trust Ana, and frankly, even if it isn't biologically my son, I'm not giving him up. I love Theodore."

I was shocked by my own words but not nearly as shocked as everyone else in the room. If it was possible, Anastasia would have melted, and I was pretty sure my mother was about to cry. An impossibly stunning smile spread across Ana's lips, and with a bit of renewed confidence, she looked at my parents.

"I've made a lot of mistakes, and I'm sorry. But I don't want your relationship with Theodore to suffer because of it. Hate me, but please love him," she swallowed, practically begging, and before I knew it, my mother was actually hugging her.

"Carrick, please go finish the barbeque. I think we all need to cool off," she announced, giving Ana a reassuring smile, "And I think I'd like to go introduce myself to my grandson.

* * *

_**It has been a long time, and I'm sorry. I'm sure my excuses are becoming pathetic, but you have no idea how busy it has been here. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I went back and forth on how to write it, what I wanted to happen, etc, and I think I like the product. I hope that the length made up for how long it took to come out, and I'm sorry if it seems scattered. I have just finished reading the entire Beautiful series by Christian Lauren (amazing, by the way) and am trying to get back into my normal writing style. The next chapter is already being drafted, so it shouldn't be long. I think the next chapter will really be a big deal for their family dynamic, and I hope you enjoy it! **_

_**As always, I love your feedback! What did you think of how they found out? Please review, favorite, and follow! **_

_**Thanks,**_

_**HAWTgeek**_

* * *

_**Feel free to reach out to me outside of . The links to my website, twitter, etc. are on my profile.**_


	15. Fifty Shades of Bellevue

_**Fifty Shades of Secrets**_

**Chapter Fifteen: Fifty Shades of Bellevue**

* * *

**Anastasia Steele,**

To my relief, Carrick Grey accepted his banishment to the patio much more readily than he accepted my honorable intentions. It was enough to hear him insist on a paternity test and imply that I was lying about Theodore simply to gain access to Christian's bank account, but the idea of him saying it again with the intention of me hearing this time made my stomach clench.

Grace did everything she possibly could to make me forget about her husband and his harsh words, promptly leading me back to the living room where the remaining Grey family members were far more likely to adore Theodore than to attack me, and luckily, they lived up to every wildest, hopeful fantasy I'd had about Theodore meeting his relatives. They fawned over him more than I'd ever dreamed they would, and before Theodore could even vaguely learn their names, they were in love with him to such a point I worried if I would ever get him out of their arms to take him back to Manhattan.

And, with everyone focused on Theodore, I finally had time to catch my breath.

I had been answering questions and weathering the guilt I knew I deserved for what felt like an eternity, and while I knew I would have to one day-most likely tonight, in fact-, I wasn't ready to do it now. I couldn't work up the courage or even find the right wording to explain it all again, and I definitely didn't want to see their expressions when they realized that, to their surprise, I was the bad guy instead of Christian.

I told myself that, with them playing with Teddy, I had more time to prepare myself. I was sure that I could work up m nerve or even think of clever distractions to evade it a bit longer in this stretch of time, but I was still completely unprepared when Grace looked at me with that eager, nearly pleading expression and began to speak.

"Anastasia, you wouldn't mind if I showed Theodore the garden? I'm sure he'd love it," Grace looked down to Theodore, smoothing his dark curls with such affection that it warmed my heart, and I knew I couldn't say no. I knew that, as soon as Theodore left the room, the questions would come up, so I looked to Christian, a part of me secretly hoping he had an objection. But to my surprise, he seemed just as moved as me.

"Of course, I wouldn't mind. Theodore will love it, won't you, Teddy?" I looked down at Theodore who looked just as excited as Grace. After he nodded, Grace stood slowly, and after giving me a warm smile and thanks, she and Theodore left.

For a moment, I was in complete awe of the moment. For the first time, my son was getting to know his grandmother, and she was getting to know him. There was no initial rejection or awkwardness between the two, and my sins no longer caused such drastic consequences in my son's life. I felt like I was waiting to wake up from a dream, for the world to revert back to its old ways, and for this insane week to be just as improbable as I'd always thought it was.

Once the sound of their feet and Grace's voice had disappeared down the hallway, I was forced to direct my attention back to everyone else in the living room. Mia was tucking a few more bobby pins into her hair, muttering something about how it was so much easier when she had her bob, and Kate tapped on her smartphone was giving everybody lackluster apologies about needing to complete something for work. As usual, Christian's posture was perfect, his expression dispassionate in the oddly mysterious way that had drawn me to him in the first place, and as his gaze caught mine, I averted my eyes to the last person in the room.

Elliott was the only one who seemed truly interested in the situation, and he watched me with a lopsided smirk that made me pray he wasn't about to begin some smartass inquisition.

I suddenly realized that I was wringing my hands, and I chastised myself. Before Christian Grey came back into my life, I'd kicked that habit a long time ago. I'm an adult, a mother, _someone's boss_. I have health insurance and sit at my kitchen table to pay bills. I was hardly the naive, college girl who'd been so in awe with Christian and his interesting sex life that she was dumb enough to fall in love with him. I am _not_ a sub anymore.

My inner goddess stared at me dubiously as if daring me to admit something, but there was nothing to admit. I was never even really Christian's sub, not really. I didn't sign the paperwork. And he definitely was not my _boyfriend_. I was his failed experiment in a vanilla experiment and mine in BDSM sex, and it was a short experiment at that. So, why does he do this to me? Why does he make me so fucking weak?

I busied my hands- and my thoughts- with picking up a glass of water, and I nearly dropped it as Elliott leaned his elbows to his knees, a devilish smirk growing as he asked, "So, what's it like?"

A panic started to settle over me as I thought of all of the possibilities of what he could mean.

What is _what_ like? Lying to the father of your child about the existence of said child? Coming back to Seattle for this very awkward meeting with his family? Being the mother to a child period? Seeing Christian come out of his emotionally unavailable shell? Or even just being forced to function on extreme lack of sleep, jetlag, and stress?

Trying to hide the growing worry, I shrugged, "What do you mean?" I casually sipped at my water, avoiding Christian's burning stare.

"Taking my brother's virginity?" Elliott's words were smooth as if this was the most natural question in the world, and I couldn't help but choke on my drink.

Christian was as much a virgin when I met him as I was the leader of a fucking meth lab.

"Eliott-" Christian began, not nearly as cold as I would have expected. In fact… his voice was warm, as if this debate about Christian's sex life-or supposed lack thereof- was some term of endearment for the brothers.

"Honestly, it's disheartening," Elliott ignored his brother and continued, "When I thought you were gay, baby brother, it was perfectly natural you didn't have girlfriends, which I was more than fine with. But now that I know you're not? Do you know what that means?" Elliott shook his head and took a purposefully dramatic pause.

"No, I don't. Explain," Christian cocked an eyebrow and gave him an expression that would have made many cower, but Elliott simply rolled with it.

"It means my brother has _no game_ if it has taken this damn long!"

I found myself choking on my drink yet, and I nearly rolled off of the couch in laughter. Christian was certainly not lacking "game," and he sure as hell was not lacking a long list of previous partners.

"I mean, I offered to help the kid out. I even gave him the sex talk when he was, like, sixteen and tried to get him some action, but he turned it down to cut Mrs. Lincoln's grass!" Elliott shook his head as if this was the ultimate disappointment, "I mean, I'll admit she was pretty hot, but _seriously._"

Kate swatted him, reminding us that she wasn't solely focused on her phone, and I was starting to laugh again when I looked over to see Christian had clammed up. His jaw was tighter than I'd ever seen it, and his gaze averted to me as if there was something I wasn't supposed to hear.

I tried to pay attention to Kate and Elliott as they bantered adorably, I really did. It was definitely interesting to see Kate meet her match, but I couldn't help but wonder what Christian seemed so upset about.

"So, is this what you to normally do?" I asked quietly, and Christian raised his eyebrow, politely ignoring the question. But I wasn't ready to let it go, "The teasing… It's sweet."

"Ah, yes," Christian nodded, giving a small smile.

"I always wanted that…. So," I couldn't help but blurt out, "Did you know Mrs. Lincoln well?"

"Anastasia," Christian shook his head as if exasperated, "_Don't_."

It was about her.

Could she have been… Mrs. Robinson?

Hearing her name, Mrs. Elliott, like that felt… _wrong_.

The name was too human. It was too real. "Mrs. Lincoln" seemed more like one of my mom's friends who would babysit me than someone who taught underage Christian Grey about the world of BDSM. My blood started to boil the more I thought about it.

I sucked in a small breath, caught between not wanting to know a thing about Mrs. Robinson and wanting to know every little detail about her. Was she as beautiful and bitchy as I'd first imagined, or was she more like a homely, secretly perverted member of the home owners association?

As I listened to Mia's rendition of an old story about overhearing her eldest brother call Mrs. Lincoln a _MILF_ and repeating the term to their mother, I stared at their expressions. They were wistful as if Mrs. Lincoln had been some large part of their childhoods, and with an unsettling feeling, I realized that she _was_. How could I ever compete with that?

_Ana, you're not _competing _for him anymore. You're just sharing custody,_ my subconscious chastised me, and as if on cue, the voice behind me reminded me exactly why I was here.

"Dinner's ready!"

Hearing Carrick Grey's voice after everything he said in the kitchen made me feel defensive, and I reluctantly looked to see him awkwardly standing in the doorway. He looked so uncomfortable in his own home, and I knew it was my fault. Only a little while ago, he'd been trying to convince his son that I was a lying gold digger, and now he was inviting me to the table. If I could have, I would have come up with some excuse to leave and spare us both, but especially with Theodore out playing with Grace, this was inescapable.

With an equally awkward smile, I avoided eye contact and started towards the doorway, and before I knew it, Mia hooked her arm through mine, leaning on me as if she was trying to comfort me.

"I'm stealing you. Christian has you all weekend after all," Mia winked, and the way she said it made my cheeks flush. It felt like we were thirteen years old and discussing my crush in the hallway, which only made me feel even more ridiculous as Mia led me through the house to the patio where dinner was waiting.

Theodore had already settled into a seat with Grace, and I wanted to watch them together for as long as I possibly could. _This_ was why I was here. So that Theodore could have the family I didn't. And it didn't hurt that, with fresh flowers stuck in his (and Grace's, for that matter) hair, he looked particularly adorable.

"Teddy likes the garden," Grace looked especially proud of herself for pleasing her only grandchild, and as if to prove it, Teddy nodded his head excitedly, a dandelion sliding out of his flower crown and into his lap.

"I'm glad," I managed to escape Mia's grasp to smooth my son's hair and kiss his forehead, and to my surprise, Grace's eyes began to water. I felt a sudden rush of fear that I'd already fucked up in Grace's eyes, but my fears were quelled when she laughed softly.

"I used to do that to Christian. Smooth his hair, I mean," she explained, motioning for me to take a seat near her, and I did so happily as she added, "It's astonishing how much he reminds of me of Christian," her fingers timidly brushed along Theodore's cheek as she spoke, and I realized with a rush of empathy for her that she was waiting to see if he shared the same fear as being touched as his father.

"Theodore seems to love you," I felt the need to tell her, though it was obvious to everyone, but it seemed to make her light up.

"He's such a lovely child," Grace was perfectly at ease in the role of grandmother, and I knew right then that trips to see the Grey family had grown exponentially. I could kiss any chance of sleeping in on a weekend goodbye as she kept talking, "Not like Elliott. He was our little hellion. He'd get bored during church and manage to strip down and run up and down the aisles naked."

"I did not do that," Elliott shook his head quickly as he sat across from his mother with a glare, and Mia happily chimed in.

"Oh yes, he did. Right up until he was about nine and decided he wanted to move on to 'mature' women," Mia winked, nudging my shoulder, "I thought our grandfather was going to have a heart attack."

"Elliott was always trying to give your grandfather a heart attack," Carrick chimed in.

"I'm sure little he'd love Teddy," Grace seemed perfectly content to turn her attention to her newfound grandson, "Especially his name. My father's name is Theodore, too, you know." As Grace said this, Theodore looked up at her with more excitement than when he found out that one of the chipmunks was named after him.

"His full name is-"I began but found myself cut off quickly by Teddy's proud declaration.

"Theoooo-dore Waymond 'Eele Grey," Theodore smiled so wide it practically split his face in half, and I smiled softly, enjoying the way his name sounded in his adorable, muffled words. It was his name, even if I had to endure all of this to give it to him.

"So… Was that always his name?" Carrick asked during a sip of water, earning many a distained glare from the rest of the table, and I awkwardly squirmed as he gave me an apologetic expression.

"No, not the last bit," I admitted, nearly mumbling before adding, "My step-father's name is Raymond. He raised me from the time I was about a year old. He lives about two hours from here," I felt my awkward nature start to kick in, and I clamped my mouth shut before I could start rambling.

"Ray's so sweet. I haven't seen him in ages," Kate saved me from myself with a broad smile, "How long are you planning on staying? We could go see him," Kate suggested, "And Ethan! You should see him. He actually wears full on clothes now, not just board shorts. Oh, and poor José has missed you like crazy. He's a photographer now, you know. I think even Christian has some of his works," Kate smirked as if this was sort of dig at Christian, and by the way his jaw tightened at the statement, I knew they hadn't become good friends while I was away.

The paperwork and meetings and uncomfortable high heels waiting for me at work in Manhattan was becoming all the more tempting as I thought about spending my week here on a trek across Washington to see what all had changed and who now hated each other.

"I'm actually flying home tomorrow evening. I have work on Monday morning. Maybe another time?" I suggested.

"Oh," Kate swallowed her disappointment, and naturally, didn't take the hint as she pushed, "Well, when are you coming back next?"

I glanced at Christian, knowing that this was the time to explain our odd custody agreement, and I silently begged him to do it instead of me.

With a small glare at Kate, he answered for me, which seemed to infuriate her, "Anastasia and Theodore are coming back to Seattle in two weeks. I'll be going to New York next weekend."

I could see the wheels work in her head as she slowly cocked an eyebrow, "Wait a minute, is that your plan? To keep flying back and forth every weekend?" Kate seemed too horrified by the idea that she nearly laughed while looking around the table for the same reaction, and I was tempted to pull her as far away from my kid as possible and scream.

"For now," Christian hardly hesitated as I quickly handed Theodore my phone, letting him play a game to distract him from the conversation.

"Won't that get exhausting?" Mia looked over at me and then her brother, "I mean, Theodore's wonderful, but won't a toddler with constant jet lag get bad?"

Even _Mia_, my biggest supporter thus far, was doubtful of our plan, and I began to wring my hands on purpose this time.

"Well, we don't want to change things too suddenly, but we want Theodore to get to know his new family," my voice was practically becoming a whisper because I knew it was my own selfish needs dictating our decision. I didn't want to give up my job and become Christian's glorified Baby Mama like he wanted, and we needed to find some sort of balance before we could come to a commitment.

"Are you sure you can fit that in with work, Christian?" Carrick seemed worried about getting into the debacle, but as usual, he wanted to make sure his son wasn't being used by me.

"Obviously, the plan isn't ideal, but we can always adapt." I was surprised by how well Christian deflected his parent's questions, but I guess I shouldn't have been. This was a man who had spent years with subs while his parents thought he was either pathetically alone or secretly gay.

"So, eventually, you plan on moving to Seattle then?" Mia practically beamed at the idea of having another sort-of sister-in-law in Seattle, and I paled.

"Well-" I began but was cut off by her again.

"You could even move to Bellevue and have Theodore go to the same school we went to. Wouldn't that be sweet?" she was now starting to get the rest of the table excited, and I couldn't tear that down. I looked to Christian, my eyes pleading for him to save me again.

"I suppose we could." Christian remained calm, and to my horror, I realized he was happy with this new topic. He seemed to enjoy backing me into this damn wall. I could have fucking killed him.

"So, what does Theodore do now? At home, I mean. Is he in preschool yet? God, when do they even begin going to preschool?" Kate laughed, flipping her strawberry blonde hair over her shoulder as if this was the biggest scoop she could ever get.

Fuck.

I'd hoped it wouldn't come to talking about preschool since I knew that Christian would have a strong opinion about it.

"Currently, no, but it is about time. I have Teddy on the list for next school year, and right now, he stays with a nanny, Essie, while I am at work," I explained, and at the mention of Essie, Christian cocked an eyebrow. So, I quickly spoke before he could explain his reservations about her _again_, "Teddy is still getting all of the socialization he needs in a safe environment. She's fantastic."

"Theodore is getting older. I think we're both open to exploring the best childcare for him and our situation," Christian just smiled politely, and I frowned. Why the fuck did he hate my nanny so much?!

"We still have a lot of things to figure out," I muttered, biting my inner cheek as I felt my anger build.

After what felt like an eternity of awkward silence and an uncomfortable staring contest between Christian and me, Grace eagerly changed the subject, "Well, who's hungry?"

_**Christian Grey**_**,**

After a quiet drive from Bellevue to Escala, I felt I had no choice but return to my neglected home office after a week of avoiding work responsibilities. Ana had already taken Theodore to the nursery, and by the looks of it, she was also heading to bed. I certainly didn't blame her after how dinner had gone, and I was tempted to join her.

While I intended to spend the majority of my Sunday after Anastasia and Theodore left at the office, I couldn't resist the urge to check in on work. This marked the longest amount of time I'd gone without at least checking my emails, and my controlling nature couldn't stand the itch much longer.

As I opened my email account, my page was flooded with messages with increasingly angry subject lines all from Ros.

**Subject: New Information on Merger**

**Subject: Actually IMPORTANT, Christian**

**Subject: Third Time Better Be the Damn Charm!**

**Subject: DOES WORK ONLY MATTER ON WEEKDAYS?!**

**Subject: GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF YOUR GIRLFRIEND'S ASS AND READ THIS**

I nearly choked on the last subject line and narrowed my eyes, feeling somewhat antsy that Anastasia Steele was in bed in my apartment while I was checking my damn email. Had I not dreaded the subjects getting even worse, I would have happily abandoned work for Ana's ass.

After scanning through Ros's lengthy- and particularly _sarcastic_-email, I replied to Ros quickly and reminded her of all of the tech guys who were laughing their asses off while looking through our emails, and I began to sort through everything else in my account.

I was just beginning to become interested in the material at hand when a welcome distraction knocked at my door. A smile spread across my lips, and with surprising ease, I closed my laptop for the night and realized that my prospects for making Ros's subject lines true were much more likely that I initially expected.

"Come in, Anastasia."

In all honesty, I expected Anastasia to step into my office with her adorable little pigtails or, if she was really trying to kill me, one of the many silk nightgowns I'd had delivered to the apartment in New York. Maybe she was here to talk logistics like the business woman she'd become or to timidly talk about our relationship like the girl I'd known so many years ago.

I felt a rush of a completely unfamiliar emotion. Hell, could it be hope? I hadn't be hopeful in so long that I didn't even recognize it, but I couldn't help but let optimism swell in my chest as I considered the girl standing outside my door.

I had spent years under the assumption that the nervous, awkward girl who interviewed me her senior year had long disappeared in a puff of smoke caused by her fiery hatred of the Son of the Bitch who'd spanked her black and blue. And upon her return, Anastasia seemed to be a different person, but I could see that she truly wasn't.

Underneath her seemingly annoyed exterior, she was still the young woman with wide eyes standing in front of my playroom like a deer in headlights. I could see that now in Seattle, and I knew it was only a matter of time before things could go back to the way they should have been.

Yet, a sense of impending doom settled over the room as the door swung open to reveal Anastasia very much dressed and very much prepared to slit my throat. With her hands on her hip, she stomped into my office with an intense determination I hadn't seen since New York, and it startled me.

In an effort of distracting her with charm, I stood, moving towards a decanter with a smooth smile, "Nightcap, Anastasia?"

"What the _actual_ _fuck_, Christian?" Anastasia closed the door behind her, and if looks could kill, she would have murdered me at least ten times in the timespan she'd been standing in my office. My eyes widened, and I had to hold my tongue not to tell her to watch her language. I was fairly confident that acting like a dominant at this time would only make Ana angrier.

"I don't know what you're referring to, Anastasia," I calmly returned to my seat, motioning for her to take the empty seat across from me, but instead, she marched to my desk and stared me down.

"Cut the crap, Christian," Anastasia began to pace, occasionally throwing a distained glare in my direction, "We talked about this in Manhattan! We're supposed to work together, you jackass. We agreed on that, remember?"

"Of course we're working together. Have I done something wrong?" I crossed my arms, leaning back in my chair as I watched her with amusement. Anastasia was adorable when she was angry.

"Have you done something wrong? Are you serious?" Mia stopped mid-pace to stare me down, "You were supposed to help me out at dinner, and you put me on the damn spot! Your sister is probably out picking out realtors for me to be her brand new neighbor! You can't just push something as big as me moving like that, Christian. It was a fucking dick move."

I shook my head, wishing I'd brought the damn decanter with me now, "You're being ridiculous, Anastasia. It's not like I could control what my family said to you. You agreed to meet them tonight, and you knew they were most likely going to ask you to move. You're being ridiculous and should just go to bed."

Anastasia's eyes widened to the size of saucers, and her jaw dropped to the same size, "Are you sending me to bed, Mr. Grey?" the sarcasm practically dripped out of her mouth, and I felt my calm amusement at the situation begin to crack.

"This is insane, Anastasia. Go to bed," my voice was clipped, and my hands itched for a paddle.

"I'm not a child, Christina. You're not sending me off to bed," Anastasia leaned her palms on my desk, and I swallowed hard.

God damn this woman drove me crazy.

"Well, you are certainly _acting _like one," I closed my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose in hopes that this was some exhaustion-induced nightmare, "You have to admit that they were all valid questions. We can't fumble around when it comes to our son's life."

"We are not _fumbling_ around. Just because he isn't going to the same preschool Mia went to doesn't mean he is going to turn out to be some crackhead, Christian!"

I flinched at the mention of crackhead. The term was just some idle phrase to her, just another joke, but she had no idea. For all we knew, that shit was genetic. How the hell could it not be? My mother was fucked up. I'm fucked up. My son _clearly_ has the potential to be much more than just fifty shades of fucked up.

"I know you're used to doing things your own way, but-" I began but was cut off by Anastasia's laughter.

"Me? Seriously?" Anastasia rolled her eyes, "I'm not the one who is acting like a brat because I don't like a nanny I've never even met!"

The fucking nanny again.

"She should have never put you in that position! How could we ever trust her with our son when the last time she was alone with him she ended up in a fucking hospital with no guardians for him except for some lovesick assistant!" I was nearly shouting by now, "We about to begin a life with lots of travel, and Theodore should always be in trustworthy hands. There could be more leeway if…" I trailed off, knowing she would have murdered me for the planned ending of my sentence, but she wasn't a dumb woman.

"There would be more leeway if I moved here, right?" Anastasia wanted a real answer, but she readily accepted my silence as one instead, "Christian, when are you going to get it through your _thick head_ that I am not just your damn _baby mama_? I'm not just going to blindly follow your orders like a…" Anastasia stopped, too, but I also was not a dumb man.

"Like a sub?" my jaw was tight, but unlike her, I was not going to accept silence as an answer, "Say it, Anastasia."

"Yes, like a fucking sub, okay!" Anastasia was growing exasperated, but honestly, I was so pissed that I wanted her that way.

"So, is that what it's all about? You don't want the big bad dom around?" I realized vaguely that I had started yelling, but I was fuming. I wanted to put Anastasia on my knee and make sure she wasn't able to walk without thinking about her bad behavior.

"Don't change the subject, Christian," Anastasia rolled her eyes, but I had no intention of dropping it.

"Don't pretend you weren't the one who came begging for a fucking whip to your clit. We just aim to please, Miss Steele." It was a dirty move to throw it back in her face, and from her expression, I gathered she knew it just as well as I did.

"Don't pretend like you weren't smiling like a fucking idiot while beating my ass so hard I started crying! What's that? Oh, or maybe you don't enjoy it until she fucking cries!"

God, I wanted to scream or put my fist through the damn drywall, but I settled for the former.

"Are you still fucking pissed I spanked you a little too hard? I warned you coming into this. I even gave you a safe word you so conveniently ignored!"

"Oh fuck you!" Anastasia slammed the door, and just like that, she was gone. But I was far from cooling off.

What the fuck did she think I was? Some kinky asshole who threw money at her just so I could give her bruises? I told her what this was, what I could fucking do. And it wasn't like I hadn't tried to move heaven and hell to make it right. I left her alone for her own good. I offered her exactly what I thought she wanted on the plane, but she was never going to forgive me, not really. We were bound to go into these circles, forever trying to get something right that was meant to be wrong, and I knew I didn't need to do it anymore.

I was tempted to call Elena. I was sure that, by the end of the day, she'd have another little, _obedient _brunette ready for me and my red room. Surely, that could break me out of this addiction to Anastasia and end the toxic pattern we were caught in. But just thinking about the women before Anastasia in my red room made me feel guilty, but imagining a new notch to my belt felt like downright cheating on a woman who detested me.

"Fuck this shit," I muttered, needing air from my office. I wanted to go for a late night run, letting my feet pound against the pavement. I wanted to beat the shit out of my personal trainer at boxing, I would have even settled for a damn shooting range at this point. I just needed _something_.

As I made my way to my room to change into attire best fitting whatever opportunity first arrived, I had to walk past Anastasia's cracked door and caught myself. She was hugging her knees, staring out the window, and she looked pitiful. During my determined and clearly pissy walk, she heard me and peaked over her shoulder silently, her watering blue eyes locked on mine.

I silently begged her to apologize. I wanted her to get on her damn knees and beg for my forgiveness. Hell, I would have accepted a muttered "I'm sorry" if she just would have said it, but she didn't.

"Teddy and I have a flight at two tomorrow. I guess we'll see you in New York next weekend?" she whispered, avoiding the elephant in the room, and I nodded my head slowly, disappointment filling my feet with lead.

I opened my mouth, trying to find the words to fix this, but I never did. And neither did she. So, like stubborn little children, we both went to bed without another word.

**I have been writing this chapter for **_**months**_**. I've written it, rewritten it, changed it completely, etc. This fight is going to have an impact on the chapters to come, so naturally, once I realized it had significance, it became almost impossible for me to write it just right. I definitely wanted to show them like they were in Fifty Shades Darker when they were fighting every two minutes, being immature and stubborn, but still having a connection they can't ignore.I've honestly had a lot of trouble finding the right balance on this chapter, but I think I've finally reached something I like. Please give me your feedback, and I promise, the next chapter won't take nearly as long as it is already half-written.**

**Thanks for reading, and as always, please review, favorite, or follow!**

**Feel free to keep informed on my website, twitter, and pinterest. The links are my profile. **


	16. Fifty Shades of Contracts

_**Fifty Shades of Secrets**_

**Chapter Sixteen: Fifty Shades of Contracts**

* * *

_**Anastasia Steele,**_

As I gulped at a strong, bitter cup of coffee, I prayed that this was the magical key to make everything better. I wanted to believe that the nagging pain in my stomach was from a lack of energy and not from my last conversation with Christian, but I was already two mugs into the disgusting, caffeine-filled tar and felt nothing except for the need for a breath mint.

Yesterday should have been fantastic. I'd had a pleasant afternoon flight from Seattle to New York, and I even managed to work a nap in while going into the city. After picking up dinner, I settled into Christian's plush apartment, took a hot bath, slept in an amazing bed, and found that Christian's personal shopper had delivered clothes so I didn't have to sprint back to my apartment to get dressed. But despite all of it, I felt terrible.

No matter how much he deserved it, I was a raging bitch to him on Saturday night, and I couldn't get over it. All night, I tossed and turned, recalling how excited his expression had been when I first walked into his office. It was like he expected me to give him something he desperately wanted, and instead, I started screaming at him for not sticking up for me at his parent's house.

"He deserved it, Ana. He was being a dick," I reminded myself as I stared my reflection down. Even though the clothes sent over were a perfect fit (how the fuck did he always know that?), I managed to look like hell. The bags under my eyes were practically bigger and heavier than the ones I'd packed over the weekend, and in spite of my best attempts at a tan during my vacation, I felt absolutely green.

Guilt was gnawing at me, and as I checked my email before work, I nearly caved into it.

Maybe if I just emailed him, I'd feel better. It wouldn't even have to be a long email. Just a quick apology. It could even be vague. I was plotting out the best way to apologize without completely admitting I was wrong when I realized that I actually was wrong. I was acting like a little kid.

Fuck.

I stared at my phone, trying to work up the courage to call him. I could just tell him that he was right. I'm sure he'd love hearing that… I reached for my smartphone, and I was about to press send when I felt something tugging on my jacket.

"Mommy, where's Essie?" Theodore rubbed his eyes, and at least for a moment, I forgot about Christian's office and focused on my son. Reminding myself of the time difference, I decided to call Christian in a few hours and put my phone away.

Since Essie had a broken arm and was still recovering from all of the tests in the hospital (and most likely Curtis's overprotective nature), I couldn't exactly count on her to take care of Theodore today, which I begrudgingly had to admit that Christian was right about. And unfortunately, the majority of my friends were going to be at work just like me, and the few who weren't couldn't just drop everything and watch Theodore on short notice.

My only options were to stay home with Theodore and try to work from home for the day, but after being gone for so long, I knew I had to get back in the office. So, I packed snacks and an iPad full of his favorite shows and apps, and I toted Theodore to work with me.

Naturally, Christian's apartment was even perfect for my commute, making me feel even guiltier. If I hadn't had a sleepy toddler in my arms, I would have been complaining about how I was an idiot the entire walk to the office. I bore the odd stares as I worked my way up to my floor, and once inside, I quickly set up a little station for Theodore in the corner of my office and let myself get back to work.

It felt surprisingly nice to get back to my desk after a week of vacation and the Christian Grey-induced stress. The world was back to normal. I had emails from coworkers who had conveniently forgotten that I was out of town and had dumped their shit on me, and I had nearly a dozen events I'd been signed up for since I wasn't here to shoot it down. But it was still _me._

Being stressed at work was my normalcy, and I started to feel better just at the thought that things weren't always going to be so different now that Grey was in my life. Perhaps we could work this out, and I could finally learn to stop being such a brat around him.

"Anastasia?" I was relieved to finally hear the familiar voice of my assistant, Curtis, because it meant that at least a part of my workload for the day had decreased. While I had been encouraging Curtis and Essie to hit it off, part of me hoped to God that they wouldn't because I depended on them being stable and without a life to help me out.

"Hey, I thought you were going to spend the day with Essie," I smiled softly, trying to seem somewhat disappointed, but even if I had jumped up and down, I doubt Curtis would have noticed as he scooped Theodore up and began to play with him.

"She was getting a little tired of me," Curtis admitted sheepishly, "Besides, after your weekend, I thought you'd need more help."

He wasn't exactly wrong, especially since Essie was out of commission for a while. Right now, I needed Curtis to fend off the sea of mildly annoyed coworkers, locate temporary childcare for Theodore, and help me with my now empty apartment. Since he was being so sweet (and distracting a bored Teddy), I decided to spring my long list on him later rather than make him immediately regret coming to my aid.

"Oh, I nearly forgot. A courier brought something over for you. It's sitting on my desk. I'll bring it in," Curtis grinned as he put Theodore down.

"I have to get something from Scarlet. I'll get it. It's on your desk, right?" I smiled, and after getting a nod from Curtis, I kissed Theodore goodbye and picked up the package on my way to Scarlet's office, knowing it was probably a new manuscript I needed to approve of. Usually, they were just emailed, but if the work was good (or the author particularly tech-challenged), I could expect it in the mail.

Without another thought, I ripped open the package and began to skim the papers inside, expecting a romance novel or a gripping political thriller or really anything other than what it really was.

_CONTRACT_

_BETWEEN _

_MR. CHRISTIAN GREY of 301 Escala, Seattle, WA 98889_

_("The Father")_

_MISS ANASTASIA STEELE of 432 Park Avenue, New York, NY 10022_

_("The Mother")_

The startling horror of what I was reading left me stunned to stillness, gripping papers for dear life in the middle of the hallway. Frantically, I flipped through the remaining my pages, my heart racing faster with each one as I waited for the big "Just Kidding!" that told me it wasn't real. I was waiting to see that Christian Grey wasn't sending me a contract, but it never came.

He _wasn't_ sending me a contract. He couldn't_. _We'd agreed to it on the plane. I remembered clearly. He'd begun by trying to redefine our hard limits. There weren't rules or punishments between the two of us. The only reason he'd send me a contract was if…

Fuck, is he revoking the proposition?

All at once, the office building was stifling. I was too high up. The air conditioning was too strong, and I felt like I couldn't breathe. As I rushed out to the elevators, pressing the button like a lunatic trying to escape an imaginary fire, I didn't even know where I was going. Once in the lobby, I waded my way through the polite smiles of young professionals who were staring at me like I was crazy, knowing I'd be in their shoes any other day.

The rush of late commuters and frantic assistants weighed down in layers and layers of Starbucks stormed around me, lost in their own worlds full of their own problems where Mr. Grey and his cold whip wasn't one of them. I sucked in gulps of air full of pollution, tasting of stale coffee and a nearby Chinese food cart. With the sounds of cars and nearby high heels on concrete and the conversations on various smartphones, I could hardly hear myself think, and it was perfect.

As I weaved through the sidewalk, I was at home. I was lost in a sea of people doing whatever the fuck they did. I became an adult in Manhattan. I became the strong, independent woman I'd always wanted to be amongst the dirty air and gritty street, and just like that, Christian and Seattle brought back parts of me I'd ignored.

I ducked into a coffee shop, finding a stool facing the window, and I noted with relief how far this was from peace and quiet. I could overhear businessmen making deals alongside testy caffeine-addicts badgering the barista for an extra shot of expresso. Here, Christian Grey didn't feel so big, so I let myself open the contract again and read it.

But he was so big and his words so cold. I wanted this to be another lawyer-approved document ushered out for a signature, but I could _feel_ him in the words. I felt the man that had whipped a naive girl who asked for what she didn't understand, and a rush of anger surged through me.

What the fuck happened to the Christian eating pizza with his son and fixing his nursery? There were two sides of this goddamn coin, and he didn't have the courtesy to even warn me which one he'd landed on for the day. I was staring at a custody agreement issued from a man who had assured me we'd work it out as we went along.

I should have known he needed control. He needed me within his firm grasp, and I didn't belong to him! I couldn't believe I nearly apologized to the bastard this morning, and before I could even process the ache to give him a piece of my mind, my twitching fingers fumbled for my phone, spitting out an email before retreating back to my office and putting Christian Grey out of my mind.

* * *

_**Christian Grey,**_

I was once more in my kingdom, practically a god amongst men, and I couldn't enjoy a goddamn minute of it. The enigmatic Miss Steele had once again invaded my mind, and nothing could fight her off. I couldn't discern which version of her bothered me so, the innocent college student or the hell on wheels mother who didn't mind telling me where to go and how to get there. A tugging feeling urged me to combine the two, that she was equally parts both and that people were complex and confusing, but I suppressed it.

Pipe dreams had long been ignored and officially buried after her arrival in my office on Saturday night. She'd hated me, and there was no twinge of the promising sub I'd once known. She was different, and I'd been a fucking asshole not to see it before. It was time to stop acting like a lovesick teenager and act like the domineering Christian Grey I knew I was.

And the dominant within me always won, and it couldn't survive a relationship without a contract with only a vague exception of my family. But even they had a contract with me, albeit a silent one. They didn't touch me. They didn't push me, and they accepted my decisions. As a man who needed a contract with my own mother, how could I think I could survive one without Anastasia Steele?

For so long, I'd told myself that she was different. We were an exception, one lacking formal agreements and rationality. But we were bound to reach this point, the one where the exception was no longer grandfathered in. We, too, couldn't function just like every other relationship in my life.

Holy fuck, I was tired of this. I felt like a Lifetime movie, and I wanted to punch the shit out of something.

Prepared to meet my personal trainer and take my frustrations out on the gym, I checked my email one last time in fear of missing something important, and there it was.

The response from Anastasia I'd dreaded all day. The glaring subject line promised a scathingly witty email, and I hesitantly opened it.

* * *

**From: Anastasia Steele**

**Subject: CONTRACT?!**

**To: Christian Grey**

**What the actual fuck, Grey?**

**I thought you didn't want contracts, or was that just to get in my pants?! You could have at least given me a warning. I may be mad at you, but does that make me a bad mother or something? We're adults. It's not like I'm not going to show up with our **_**son**_**.**

**Anastasia Steele**

**Very Pissed Off Vice-President of Davidson Publishing, Manhattan**

* * *

_What the hell?_

Was I just her go to fall guy? She'd been furious at me for not having things laid out, and she was furious for me taking measures to do so. I'd expected disappointment in the terms, not outright rejection at the existence of the contract.

My palm twitched as I reread it again and again, working myself up.

_Just to get in her pants?_ She seemed to think I was some sex-crazed asshole. I meant that proposition, and she didn't even respond to it and instead distracted us both with sex.

I was furious, and with a tight jaw, I drafted my own response.

* * *

**From: Christian Grey**

**Subject: Apologies**

**To: Anastasia Steele**

**Miss Anastasia Steele,**

**I apologize. On Saturday night, you informed me that I was not meeting your expectations and that our rules had not been formally established. Due to this, I determined that the best course of action would be to have an agreement drafted that dictated our exact expectations of each other. Mine are fully laid out in the contract provided, and I fully intend to negotiate to meet our mutual satisfaction, Miss Steele.**

**Christian Grey**

**CEO, Grey Enterprise Holdings, Inc.**

* * *

It was only once the message had been moved from drafts to outbox that I noticed the frigid demeanor, and I knew I was only adding fuel to the fire. But never more had I wished Anastasia and her perky little ass was over my fucking knee.

Within minutes, another email was waiting impatiently within my inbox, and I hardly checked the sender before opening.

* * *

**From: Anastasia Steele**

**Subject: The Cold Never Bothered You Anyway**

**To: Christian Grey**

**Attachment: **

**Mr. Grey,**

**I see that distance causes you to become frigid. Perhaps try a jacket? **

**I've reviewed your contract and notice striking similarities to your kinky sex contract, right down to spanking. I will return my notes within a timely fashion, Grey. After all, this is what **_**you**_** want.**

**Anastasia Steele**

**Furious Vice-President of Davidson Publishing, Manhattan**

* * *

I imagined Anastasia fuming, hunched over her desk with her fingers pounding on the keyboard, and the image both assumed and terrified me.

As I read the email, I realized that it wasn't what I wanted, not really. I wanted the stalemate to end and for us both to stop pushing. For fuck's sake, I wanted her forgiveness and her smile approvingly shining on me once more, and I drafted multiple replies saying so.

_No, I want you to give in- _Delete.

_I hope we can find a mutual decision and put this shit behind us-_ Delete.

_We're acting like four year olds_\- Delete.

_HOW DO YOU DO THIS TO ME?!-_ Delete.

Frustrated, I closed my email and put my computer to sleep, storming out of the office and thoroughly beating Bastille like never before.

With every punch and kick and crunch, I imagined a new email coming in, one where Anastasia apologized and ended the feud before me, but once my session was over and my phone once more in my hands, I knew she hadn't. Instead, I reread our previous correspondence, beginning yet another futile reply that would find itself deleted before making it out of drafts.

_NEW EMAIL: ANDREA…_

I was somewhat relieved by a reminder of the real, less romantic-comedy world and read the email, which was just a schedule for the week.

My eyes lingered over a function in Manhattan tomorrow night. It was scheduled for someone else already in New York to attend on my behalf, but I didn't care. After sending one email to Andrea to add me to the list and another to Gale to have a bag packed for tomorrow, I knew I found my way to put the fight to an end.

* * *

_**Anastasia Steele,**_

"You're going to be good for Bella, right?" I smoothed Theodore's hair, waiting for something even remotely like a 'yes' to avoid feeling guilty the entire night, but Theodore was distracted with the oodles of fun he planned to have with Wini while I was off at a boring work event.

"He'll be fine," Scarlet assured me as she placed a bright red kiss on her daughter's cheek, "You'll keep him straight, won't you, Wini?"

I glanced in the direction of Bella, a twenty-something babysitter who somewhat knew Scarlet and was available on short notice, and as she skimmed Instagram with a half-hearted nod in my direction, I felt sick to my stomach and considered faking an illness to avoid this impending disaster.

Scarlet seemed to read my mind and shook her head quickly, holding out a hand for me to follow her, "We'll be back by ten," Scarlet waved goodbye to Bella, tugging me along behind her, and as I opened my mouth to protest a much earlier time, I was shushed with a glare as she repeated, "_Ten._"

After blowing a final kiss to Theodore, Scarlet tugged me into the elevator and ushered me to the car waiting impatiently curbside. I began to wish I'd forgotten something like a purse or even an earring back that I could run for. Despite my best efforts, I still hadn't learned how to let go. I was a helicopter mom with an intense work schedule, two things that didn't mesh. As I checked my phone for a text from Bella (despite it being hardly five minutes), I found myself seriously considering Christian's idea of being a resident baby mama in Bellevue.

_Poke_.

I jumped, looking to my right to see Scarlett staring at me with a bemused smile, "Penny for your thoughts, Miss Recluse. You've barely spoken since Seattle. His family couldn't have been that bad," Scarlet teased.

After work on Monday, I told her a brief version of the last few days with Christian while commuting home where she got the most important bits including me agreeing to move out of my apartment (she was concerned), our agreement for every other weekend (she thought I was crazy), our sudden flight to Seattle (she pitied my lack of sleep), and how I was now back to in Manhattan. And though I tried to settle any further questions, she knew there were many things I left out.

Like sex in the plane, the proposition in said plane, the numerous fights we'd had (especially the last one), and the custody agreement sitting on my nightstand waiting to be read again and critiqued logically like I promised Christian it would be. But I hadn't worked up the nerve. Every time I sat down with it, I put it off, going to get a pen or highlighter or shoving it in my dresser and leaving the apartment like a real adult.

"Oh no, they were fine. His mother is in love with Theo," I murmured, tugging on the edges of my purse.

"As she should be. He's a great kid," Scarlet laughed, "So, if the family is fine and Theodore is fine, I'm assuming it is the sperm donor himself that has worked you up," Scarlet thoroughly enjoyed her new nickname for him, and when I was silent, she gave me a smirk and shrugged innocently, "Alright, we could talk about the sex you had to have to get Theo. I mean, I hope for your sake it was more than one because damn-"

"Okay then," I stopped her, "We've never gotten along well, and we still don't, okay?" I snapped, "We're just- well, we're…" I nearly raked my fingers through my hair before remembering my hair style, and just like that, I also remembered that I was wearing an overly expensive dress on my way to a work event and decided to snap out of it. "Christian Grey doesn't matter right now. We'll talk about him later."

Scarlet cocked an eyebrow, silently questioning it, but deciding not to answer, I just motioned towards the window, "We're here."

Before Scarlet could even move to open the door, it opened slowly, startling us both, and I nearly rolled my eyes at the tall, dark, and handsome smile greeting us. Damien Thompson, head of public relations and resident office sex god, helped Scarlet out, and with a wink, his eyes scanned my dress.

_Fuck, is something wrong_? I hurriedly surveyed my gown, praying to God I didn't have toothpaste smudges or a rip.

"Stunning," Damien gave me an approving nod, and I rolled my eyes, "May I?" he held out an arm, and I let out a sigh of relief.

"No date? What happened to the Victoria's Secret Model?" Scarlet's glare hardly intimidated him as he offered his other arm to her.

"Oh, Cindy-"

"Her name was Ashley."

"-didn't work out. You win some, you lose some, eh?" Damien wasn't fazed as he led us into some charity event I didn't even remember the cause of, "Besides, I would have lost out on spending time with my lovely coworkers," his gaze lingered on me, and had it been anyone other than Damien Thompson, collector of Playboy Bunnies, I wouldn't have played along and laughed.

"_Boss_," Scarlet corrected,

"Kinky," Damien teased, and naturally, the word reminded me of the man I was determined to forget. He was the fucking king of kinky…

"I should fire you."

"But you never will, _Miss _Rhodes."

"Keep an eye on him. I have to mingle like head of Public Relations _should _be doing," Scarlet shook her head, trying to hide that she, too, enjoyed bantering with Damien.

"I doubt she'll be able to shake me," Damien's attention averted to me, and despite myself, I blushed under his affection for the first time since I first met the man (and watched him flirt with every girl at the office). It must have been post-Christian hysteria, something I was sure was extremely common.

As Scarlet gave us both a disapproving shake of her head, she ushered off to schmooze all of her ex-husband's friends who were slowly learning to take her seriously, and Damien dragged me along on his public relation duties, thankfully doing ninety percent of the talking. I hated events like this and was relieved I hadn't been stranded in the middle of room to find my own way, even if it came with a particularly coquettish guide.

And, for a moment, as he offered me a glass of champagne with eyes gleaming as bright as the drink, ignoring the lovely models strolling by, I thought he might have _actually _been flirting with me with full intention of me taking it seriously, and the thought was startling and felt…almost… _wrong_.

He wasn't…

I didn't allow myself to finish the thought.

"Ahh, of course," Damien's hand moved to my lower back, making my eyes widen, and I flushed brightly as I noted the photographer aiming a camera in our direction.

Right.

Photos.

He's not just trying to grabbing my ass.

_Flash_.

The blinding light was only momentary, and when it settled away, I wished it hadn't because, staring directly at me, was Christian Grey in all of his glory.

I became all too aware of my surroundings, of the buzzing phone in my bag I'd ignored, and particularly of Damien Thompson's hand still resting on my hip. My mouth dried, and I hated myself for noting that, as usual, Christian was perfect. How could that even be _possible_?

Panic settled in as I remembered the neglected custody agreement, and I hoped to God it didn't come up.

But worst of all, I _loved _seeing him, that fucking son of a bitch. I'd missed his annoying ass, and I was tempted to say so.

Correction. Worst of all, his gaze was locked on Damien's long, tan fingers flat against my hip, and the fury radiated off of him until it had become another entity enveloping me in dread. And I wasn't the only one who saw it clearly as Damien's face moved closer to mine, his lips so close I could feel his hot breath as he slowly whispered, "Who is he?"

"Christian Grey," I answered carefully as he began to walk towards me.

"The Seattle tycoon? You know him?" Damien's interest peaked, and naturally, in a stressful situation, I overanalyzed the question.

Yes, I know him, but no, I don't. I know his kinks, and he knows me naked. And I know that he _isn't_ my ex-boyfriend but also is _not_ not my ex-boyfriend, and he was my-

"He's my baby daddy," I blurted out, and Damien choked on his drink, his hand moving from my hips just in time for Grey's arrival.

I could see the jealousy in Christian's explosive grey eyes, tucked beneath his cool exterior, and I held my breath as they began to exchange brief introductions, practically wrestling over who had the strongest handshake. In fact, they were so determined to be stronger than each other that they were hesitant to even release.

"So, you have met Anastasia, I see?" Christian began the conversation, moving to stand beside me, and…Was I mistaken, or was his hand on my shoulder, rubbing circles with his thumb? He was showing a casual display of affection, but with Christian, no public display of affection was _casual_. I was so furious at him that I wanted to move my shoulder way and let him place his affection somewhere else, but Christian Grey was a like a magnet, making me edge closer to him without even realizing it.

"Yes, for many years," Damien's eyes lingered on Christian's hand, and I could have sworn that he was moving closer to me. With a casual smile and a small sip of his drink, he added, "I hear you're her baby daddy," Damien was so proud of himself as if this term was more of a derogatory dig than something he'd been choking on a moment ago, and I paled.

Christian's eyes darted to me, asking for silent confirmation that I was too embarrassed to give, "Yes, we have a son. He's two years old," Christian seemed confident with his claim on me, which made me want to roll my eyes, but I didn't dare, especially since he now knew I'd called him my _baby daddy_.

"Ah, Theodore. Wonderful child. We all went to a baseball game, and I've never seen a toddler more excited," Damien didn't back down, and I suddenly felt the need to explain it was more of a work event Theo tagged along on. But my anger reminded me that I didn't owe Christian explanations. Or did I? Fuck this man made me so indecisive.

I felt like I was trapped in a fucking pissing match, and I was desperate to end it before they started comparing who had been in my apartment the most or something equally ridiculous.

"Theodore's with a babysitter, Bella," I blurted out, looking up at Christian like a deer in headlights, "And with Wini, Scarlet's daughter." Somehow, this managed to give Christian a renewed sense of confidence.

With a genuine smile, Christian turned his attention to Damien, slowly squeezing my shoulder, "Speaking of Theodore, can you excuse us, Mr…?" Christian asking for his name was like icing on the cake, which only made Damien want to stay more to even the score, but he nodded in agreement.

"Of course, I'll check on Scarlet," Damien muttered his defeat, and as soon as he was gone, I felt suffocated by the pure magnitude of Christian Grey and almost wished for their pissing match to resume.

_One second. Now two. And three._

I waited impatiently for him to speak. I was too afraid to break the ice and accidentally mention the custody agreement-

"Have you read the agreement Anastasia?" his words were smooth and casual as he sipped at a drink, his stormy grey eyes locked on mine as he awaited a response, and I nearly muttered a variety of curses.

"Not particularly," I lied through my teeth, wanting to seem coy like the document didn't matter, but of course it did. I wanted to give him hell, but instead, I shrugged, "Only a bit. I haven't had the time."

Christian took a deep breath, and an uneasiness settled over me as I realized he didn't buy it and wanted to _talk_. I was fine with anything other than talking, particularly here. Couldn't we pause this and whisper yell in Christian's apartment later tonight while passive aggressively getting ready for bed like most people?

Why am I assuming he's sleeping with me?

"I thought it was best to set limits, Anastasia," Christian insisted, and I couldn't play nice. This was definitely _not_ in the best interest of our own good. I wasn't stupid, and I knew he wasn't either. Had he convinced himself that he was saving his poor little, slightly neurotic Anastasia?

"Cut the shit, Christian," I held up my hand before he could say anything else, "If you wanted to calmly discuss limits, you would have picked up a phone or sent an email on Sunday. No, you wanted to hurt me for what I did on Saturday. It's just some little sick retaliation game to you."

"Why would it hurt you?" Christian hardly waited for me to finish to ask his question, and it stunned me to silence.

And it stayed silent for what felt like an eternity. For all I knew, the party was long over by the time I finally managed to form words.

"We should call a truce," I murmured, "Just enjoy the night. This is ridiculous. We're adults, aren't we?"

But clearly we weren't.

"Yeah, sure, enjoy the night. Are you planning to enjoy the night with him? _Damien?_" his eyes were fiery, the first emotion from him I'd really seen since Saturday, and its own way, it was startling and comforting.

"You're _absurd_, Christian," I refused to stoop to this level. I'd been childish enough. We both had, and I was tired of it. So, I did the most mature thing I could think of and left in a fit of exasperation in search of awkward small talk and professional mingling.

But seeing him was too much. Hell, just knowing he was in the same state, let alone the same room was too distracting. I felt the pull to him, and it only ever led to screaming and crying and, on a good day, sex. I could hardly listen to the questions, let alone answer them. I was useless in a conversation, and my only defense was to bolt and run away as is the Anastasia Steele way.

Ducking out of gossip of a mutual acquaintances latest antics, I made my way to the coat room, careful to avoid being seen by Scarlet or Damien. I didn't want to answer questions. I just wanted to get out of here before I did something stupid.

But there was a hand on my elbow tugging me back.

_Note to self: he has the vision of a fucking hawk._

"Where are you going?" Christian demanded.

"It isn't any of your business," I protested.

"Like hell it isn't."

"I don't belong to you, Christian."

"I never said you did! You want me to be the bad guy. You're worse than Kate!"

"I do not! You treat me like a _sub_, Christian," I stepped closer to him, unable to ignore the anger that pushed me nearer.

"You're _not_ a sub! You made that _abundantly _clear."

"Oh, is that why you're pissed? Because I wouldn't let you get out your canes?!"

"Shh!" Christian stepped even closer to hush me, his chest nearly touching mine, "You have to stop seeing me as some big bad villain eventually. I fucking offered you what you wanted in the plane, Anastasia. Stop this victim bullshit."

"Victim bullshit?! You took it back with that stupid fucking contract! And _without warning_! You just wanted to hurt me, you sick SOB."

"So you _did_ read it," Christian seemed victorious, and I wanted to wipe that stupid little smirk off of his face.

"Of course I read it! You sent a _contract_ to my office! What happened to no rules, no contracts? Just us!"

And then both of our mouth's remained closed, but I noted that it was hardly silent. He was so close that I could count his breaths and revel in his cologne, and we were moving even closer. My racing heartbeat clouded my thoughts, and before I knew it, his lips were on mine.

And his hands… And then, tucked in the coat closet, my dress was on the floor…

And there, hidden away from the party, we had the hottest, angry, closet, vanilla sex I was sure had ever existed.

* * *

_**I actually held to my promise. It hasn't been long since my last update, and the chapter definitely isn't just fluff. Instead, this chapter was extremely important because it was, in a lot of ways, the culmination of their childish actions and could lead to growth. I know that a lot of people have been really upset with the last chapter, often on different sides (Team Ana, Team Christian, Team Fuck Them Both), but after getting over the shock of it all, I guess it is great that I can write something people get involved in! **_

_**Also, I'm almost at 1,000 reviews! It would be fantastic if you guys could review and make that milestone!**_

_**Happy Easter! **_


	17. Fifty Shades of Surprises

_**Fifty Shades of Secrets**_

**Chapter Seventeen: Fifty Shades of Surprises**

* * *

_**Anastasia Steele,**_

My muscles ached as I stretched across Christian's king size bed, reminding me of the night before, and I found myself actually _smiling_ into my pillow. A voice in the back of my head chastised me for my immaturity, reminding me of all the reasons I should be mortified. Not only had I skipped out on a work event, I'd actually had sex in a _coat closet_ at a _charity event_.

It would have been easier if I had woken up with some pounding hangover to give me solace that my actions were in an alcohol-fueled state, but alas, I was not so lucky. My half-a-glass of wine hadn't even given me a headache, which meant that I was a grown ass women who had sex in a closet.

I tried to convince myself that I wanted to go back and avoid it all, but honestly, there was no way I regretted the closet (or, if I'm being honest, Christian's bed about two hours later). I didn't regret the unfortunate snags in my dress due to all of the hangers or the scuffs on my high heel shoes from nearly tripping into a cab back home.

I, Anastasia Steele, completely enjoyed fucking a man I'd wanted to strangle only twenty four hours prior, and it perplexed me.

Despite my best attempts, I _didn't _hate Christian Grey.

Every stubborn ounce in my body held onto a grudge that, in reality, didn't exist anymore. I'd spend years blaming my mistakes on him, but we'd both created our mess. I certainly was guilty, but in some ways, so was he. But, as I laid sprawled out on his bed, it was perfectly apparent I didn't care. Could I even come back from everything I'd done to him?

Beginning to sit up, I decided to put my guilt and confusion on hold with morning coffee and a bit of work, but I barely got half up before hearing a surprising voice.

"Oh, you're awake."

It was all I could do not to fall out of bed, and I carefully peaked over my shoulder to see Christian Grey, a smirk spread across his lips as he finished the last three buttons of his shirt. I'd expected him to be gone by now. It was nearly eight am on a workday, and Christian was thousands of miles away from the office.

In the haze of getting my dress off the _second_ time, I remembered Christian getting a call from his assistant with arrangements for a flight at six in the morning. At the time, this news gave me a sense of relief tucked deep down below the heat of the moment, even if it did mean no chance of a particularly amazing wake-up call. Him leaving meant that, within a few hours, I could get my head on straight. I could jump in a hot shower and reflect on how I turned into a horny teenager at the sight of Christian Grey. A psychologist would have had a field day on me.

"You're still here…" I found myself tugging the blankets over my bare body and trying to smooth my bird's nest morning hair, which he seemed to find amusing.

"Did you not want me to?"

The question was so direct that it stunned me to silence, and I stared at him like a deer in headlights as I processed it. I was tempted to avoid the question, like I usually did, but that was part of the whole problem. We didn't talk. We avoided conflict, let our problems bubble up, fought, and made up in the most dramatic fashion.

"I do want you here," I admitted, and he seemed just as stunned at the confession as I was. I found myself tugging on the tassels to my blanket, avoiding his gaze, "I just… I didn't expect you to be. I thought you were flying out."

Christian nodded, walking towards the window on the other side of the room, "My flight was at six, but I didn't think I should leave without saying goodbye to you or Theodore." For a moment, he surveyed the sprawling city as if we were right back in his office a few years ago and I was the timid student doing her best for an interview, and I felt the panic rise that perhaps nothing had really changed. But then he glanced over his shoulder and added, "I didn't realize you'd sleep so late."

Was that a _chuckle_?

Christian Grey _chuckles_.

"It's _seven twenty four_ in the morning. That's hardly late, Christian."

"Oh really? When do you normally wake up?" Christian cocked an eyebrow, and I started to laugh, sitting up a bit more in bed.

"Alright, more along the lines of five thirty," I couldn't help but laugh a bit more as Christian's victory laugh came out, and I began to explain, "but I have a kid and a nanny and used to have a bad commute, and I make breakfast. I once made heart shaped pancakes!"

"You once made heart shaped pancakes?" Christian repeated as if it was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard.

"I did! I have pictures to prove it," I sat up a bit straighter, trying to subdue my laugh, but the effort made us both laugh even more.

"No, no, I'm sure you did," Christian shook his head, smothering his smirk in his palm.

"Right," I jumped out of bed, reaching for a tee shirt and tugging it on before tying my hair up in a ponytail. I deliberately kept my back to him, still embarrassed to be naked in front of him. I knew it was ridiculous. I'd been tied up in the red room before, completely bare except for the elastic he used to braid my hair back, and I was afraid he'd see my ass right now.

I turned back and braced myself for the worst reactions I could imagine. The Ana he remembered was a barely graduated girl pre-childbirth and pre-raising a toddler. I squirmed, waiting for him to say something, but he seemed to consider what to say for a long time before finally opening his mouth.

"So you had a C-Section."

My hand instinctively moved towards the scar tucked between my hips. Over the last two years, it had healed well, reducing to a fine white line that was easily hidden in most situations. However, having sex with an ex was not one of those situations.

"Yeah, I did." A wave of self-consciousness washed over me. Had he been sitting there thinking about it the entire time? Was he waiting to ask, or had his background check on me told him long before he even saw the scar? I swallowed my questions back, knowing I was the one who needed to give answers this time, "Teddy gave me some issues," I admitted, sitting back on the bed, "I tried the whole natural thing. I mean, I went at it for twelve hours, and…"

Christian's eyebrows perked up at twelve hours, and he stopped me for a moment, "Twelve?" he repeated, and I nodded.

"I would have gone longer, but…. They were getting worried. So, I had the C-Section."

"Was anyone there with you?"

I paused, trying to remember. Everything between being told I needed a C-Section (which I adamantly protested) and holding him in my arms was a blur.

"Yeah," I nodded, "My mom was there. Ray lost it about an hour into the whole ordeal, so he was with my step-father waiting around. We were in Savannah. Hot as hell that day," I began to wring my hands, failing at my attempt to read his expression, and my natural instinct was to ramble.

"I wasn't there…" Christian's jaw tightened as he practically fell into what I'd already learned was a chair meant for aesthetics, not comfort, and I quickly shook my head.

"No, no, I didn't let you be there," I i stepped closer, and my fingers briefly ran across his shoulder before retreating just as instantaneously, expecting a flinch at my sudden contact. But it never came, and it seemed to unnerve Christian just as it did me. "We get along better when we're like this, you know…"

"We've always gotten along better when we're fucking, though we've never been good at maintaining it." Christian's smirk had returned, yet I knew the comment was much more calculating than playful.

"I think it's because we're always trying to prove something," my chin tilted, glued to his stormy grey eyes as I realized we were close to either a third round or a screaming match that could be heard across Manhattan, but to my surprise, he just smiled.

"Oh? And what, Miss Steele, are we trying to prove?" Christian cocked his head innocently, his palm resting flat against the back of my knee, and the heat of his skin nearly made them weak.

"You, Mr. Grey, are trying to prove you're a dom, and I'm trying to prove I'm not a sub," I braced myself the backlash, standing truly strong for what was most likely the first time to Christian Grey, "And we should just be us, whatever that means, and let the cards fall where they fall."

"And if your little card house is knocked down?" his thumb pressed into the back of my knee, tugging me just the tiniest bit closer.

"Then at least I tried…" I straightened my spine and watched him coolly remove his hand and walk away from me to the door.

And just like that, my heart stopped. My little show of strength wasn't what he needed or even wanted, and I was just a girl who failed his kinks. It was harder to breathe, and I focused my attention to the nearby buildings and what little I could see into them to prevent the tears threatening to fall. If I'd been on a lower floor, I could have fancied that others were peering into my life just as I peered into them, and that to the outsider, this was all comical, that it was the scene before everything else worked out in a RomCom. But Christian's little castle in the clouds left me isolated, comforted only by my newfound disappointments.

"Oh, I knew you'd read it…" Christian's triumph was clear in his voice, and what little grace I had kept me standing as I wheeled around to find him not at the door but at the end table, the well-worn custody agreement in hand. His hands were on either side of the edges, and it wasn't until the tiniest tear had been made that I realized what he was doing.

"Wait, no!" I stopped him, rushing to the paperwork I'd been cursing for days. Back in my hands after being in his, the document felt… like paper, not the legal document I cursed the existence of. My thumb traced the leader head of a Seattle-based attorney's logo, and I swallowed hard as I made the surprising plea for this fucking paperwork, "You were right about this…. Not for the limits or the expectations but for Teddy. If our card house falls, Teddy doesn't need to be in the rubble. He comes first, and this document makes sure it happens."

Impatience felt like it was swallowing me whole as I waited for his response. My heartrate had doubled as I searched his mercurial expression, over examining every little movement, and I realized with a startle that Christian Grey made mulling it over sexier than most men made anything.

"There's another proposition I offered you…" Christian's hand rested on my arm and I audibly caught my breath, forcing a flush to my cheeks. "No contracts of course," Christian assured me, and I stared at him like a deer in headlights, which I was sure not the attractive image he'd expected. "Is that still on the table?"

_If it means more nights like last night, count me the fuck in_.

My expression must have been enough for him because he didn't wait for an answer. After planting one of the gentlest kisses I'd ever felt on my temple, he left the custody contract in my hands and stepped back. He honestly seemed to enjoy leaving me like this. I was tired, hardly dressed, and extremely hot and bothered just from watching his jaw tighten.

He walked into the door, and shamelessly, I watched him leave, knowing I'd be canceling my morning appointments for this man even if we both stayed completely clothed. He was already out of the door, and my smartphone was already in my hand when he peaked back in to add, "My flight isn't until eleven. Unless you and Theodore are otherwise engaged, I'd enjoy a family morning."

The suggestion was clearly a formality because we both knew that I wanted to go so badly I'd cancel just about anything.

"Is Christian Grey actually taking a morning off of work?" I smirked.

"No contract doesn't mean sarcasm is welcome."

"I'm convinced you actually like it, you know…"

* * *

_**Christian Grey**_,

When I arrived at the office, it was three in the afternoon by Pacific Standard Time, but it might as well have been another day entirely. Jet lag was slowly but surely taking its toll after crossing multiple time zones within a forty-eight hour period, and when combined with missing another session with Claude, I was most certainly off my game. To prove it, Ros looked prepared to strangle me when I had the audacity to ask for clarification on a question she'd asked.

Within two hours at the office, I was both too exhausted and far too pissed off to stay, and after my fourth coffee of the day, I retreated to Escala to sleep and beat the shit out of a boxing dummy. Even at that, I was useless.

I felt like shit. This was not who I was. I was not the man who jumped in a private jet, throwing caution to the wind and avoiding responsibility. My email was beginning to overflow, and I felt the need to give my assistant a raise after what I'd put her through. There was hardly even a productive thing I'd done in recent memory, and the worst part was that I didn't _really_ care.

By far, I was more concerned with Anastasia and Theodore than even favorite projects. In fact, part of me wished that, if they couldn't be here, I should be there. Despite my best attempts, I couldn't get any of it out of my head.

The night before flashed in my head. Anastasia in a closet, Anastasia nearly in a cab, and Anastasia in my bed…. I wasn't entirely sure what was the most alarming. Was it that I flew to New York just to see Anastasia, or that in the middle of a fight, we had sex in a closet? Was it the public display of affection on our way out, or that her touch didn't evoke the darkness? Was it that I hadn't been there for the birth of my child, or that we easily seemed to be a family when we picked up Theodore? Was it that Ana had essentially-_and finally_-agreed to my proposition, or that she maintained the custody agreement?

For the first time in years, I actually had a chance with her. The new sense of possibility was overwhelming, and it was nearly impossible to resist the constant urge to shower her in gifts. I knew she'd be furious if she woke up to an Audi in the garage and a Harry Winston line-up at her doorstep, but that didn't mean I wasn't tempted…

It was like a physical need to do something, especially after last night. My palm twitched from the restraint, and I found myself mentally tallying her anger based on various gifts. She'd nearly killed me when I'd given her the laptop, so tech gifts were out of the question. But what about flowers? Nobody disliked flowers…

Before I could reconsider, I pulled out my smart phone, drafting a text to my assistant. Even Anastasia Steele couldn't complain about a floral arrangement… _most likely_. I needed to win her back, yet I had I had no idea how to actually do it. I was far more talented at driving women away than keeping them.

The uncertainty of how to approach my situation was still setting me on edge. I wanted to treat this as a merger rather than a relationship. I wanted to efficiently and systematically eliminate resistance, getting the paperwork signed quickly, and move operations to a more convenient location. But, if Anastasia Steele was not a sub, she sure as hell wasn't fiber optics…

Gail, undoubtedly sensing my foul mood, had everything set up just as they should be. Dinner was already prepared and waiting on my interest to be served. Fresh clothes were put away while my overnight back had already been ushered to the laundry. Jet lag cures were gingerly waiting for me on my bedside, and the morning paper was sitting on my desk. The latter two primarily peaked my interest, so I happily settled into a chair by the window with a few tablets and the business pages.

_Buzz. Buzz. Buzzzzzz._

The force of the vibration made my phone dance on the side table, earning a sufficiently annoyed groan. Who the fuck would want to bother me now? Ignoring the urge to chuck the phone out onto the Seattle cityscape, I checked the message giving me such grief and was hardly surprised at the culprit.

**Elena: Free for dinner?**

I dreaded explaining my situation to Elena.

She'd hardly been understanding the last few years, calling my celibacy and attempt at vanilla sex my "quarter-life crisis" and even bought me a motorcycle to rub it in. Left and right, I'd found pretty little brunettes on my doorstep in high heels and feminine corsets. She'd even gone as far as to call in past subs. Many of them were happily settled while others begged to be my new Anastasia, give me a relationship with even kinkier sex than she'd ever offer, but as kindly as possible, they were sent away as well.

Naturally, my relationship with Elena was tainted. She didn't understand me, and I no longer understood her. But my history with her was strong enough to maintain our pleasantries.

I was sure she'd have me on my knees if she was fully informed, and if my mother had anything to do with it, the news would most certainly spread to Elena fast. I fully intended to lay as low as possible until Elena found something new to occupy her interests.

**Christian: Swamped with work. Next weekend?**

I typed the text fully knowing that flying to New York was the perfect way to skip out, and before she could respond, I tossed my phone to the bed to keep it out of mind.

"You look positively overworked my dear. How will you ever manage out of that mountain of paperwork?" Elena's voice was smooth and seductive, yet it made me feel like I was a teenager preparing to be punished by my own Mrs. Robinson. Despite being a good four inches shorter than me, I knew she could easily kick the living shit out of me and would thoroughly enjoy it.

"Took a break for my sanity," it was phrased playfully, yet I knew that, in her eyes, I was lying through my teeth, "Breaking and entering, are we?"

Though Elena hardly had a key, she'd always been talented at manipulating Gail to let her in.

"Sure you were, Darling. And I'd hardly call it breaking and entering… More like visiting an old friend," she placed her hand lightly on my chin, still taking my rules into account, and it gave me the helpful reminder that we were equal now. Both masters of our own universes, I hardly needed to fear her, "You haven't lied to me since college, you know. Now that was an interesting time. I remember you had that stunning little neighbor, a _brunette_," her eyes playfully widened at me, "Ah, but that was before you got so old and boring," she winked. Helping herself to a nearby decanter, she leaned into the chair across from me.

"Even you have encountered celibacy, Elena."

"Only when completely_ necessary_," Elena looked at me as if I was talking about a disease, "You're bound to explode one day. You and I both know your red room won't be locked forever. Perhaps I could help you break back into it?" As she stared at me, I knew she was completely serious.

"As tempting as that may be, I doubt Andrew would be pleased." Andrew was her newest sub, a recent college graduate she was enjoying training. With dark hair, light eyes, and a personal trainer, she was definitely his type and had the possibility for longevity. I'd hoped he would keep her distracted, so he was even employed by me in a sub-like role in an office close enough where Elena could check on him at her leisure.

"Possibly," Elena flicked a bit of lint off of her dress, "Besides, I forget. You're still in love with that little girl. Anabelle, right?" She began to fiddle with my paper, flipping through the pages as she reclined in her chair.

"Hardly."

"Oh?" Elena stood up straight, looking at me innocently, "That's too bad…" she slammed the paper on the coffee table, "Because I'm sure that would crush the poor girl."

_Shit._

For the first time in months, I found my name splattered on the society pages with "Billionaire's Slice of the Big Apple: Grey Acquiring Love?" in bold. Beneath the headline was an article that both made my fists clench and stomach drop to my feet, but I could hardly read it fast enough.

* * *

_Local billionaire, Christian Grey, may not be so local anymore! Over the last few weeks, he has spent more and more time on the east coast. And perhaps New York has particularly enchanted our favorite recluse as his public appearances have increased dramatically. With attending the Literacy for All Gala and even just stepping out for pancakes, we certainly are seeing a new side to Grey. Yet, these changes could be far less to do with geography than simple attraction._

_Despite rumors of homosexuality and even _asexuality_, a mystery woman seems to have captured Grey's heart as they have been reported together all over town. To date, the thirty year old business man and philanthropist has had no romantic relationships to date, which has some sources calling it purely platonic. Little is known about the mystery woman or their relationship…_

* * *

Fuck.

I'd never thought that anyone would care about my personal life. They hadn't in the past, but then again, I'd never had a personal life worth caring about. The pictures were the icing on the cake. A few were official while others seemed to have been taken a block away. They detailed me at work, one at Central Park (though Theodore was luckily not pictured, another on a side street Anastasia and I had walked, and finally a picture of us at the gala. Thankfully, they were just blurry enough that she was somewhat ambiguous. Those close would know, but at least her privacy was intact. And most importantly, Teddy's was.

"I remember Anastasia. She was the first- and only sub- you'd ever had a public sighting with. Her graduation I believe," Elena looked absolutely furious as if she was tempted to storm my red room and give me hell.

"Why does it matter, Elena? I was with her. We were seen. It's hardly a secret," I calmly folded the paper and put it away, though I wanted to be furious. My palms itched to get on the phone with the newspaper that printed them just to give them the harshest takeover they'd ever seen. I was sure that, after seeing this, my lawyer was already gearing up for retaliation. But Elena would have enjoyed it all too much. So, at least for the time being, I smiled.

"You and I both know that they'll learn. It could ruin you. A secret child is hardly something investors would enjoy. It doesn't exactly a stable CEO," Elena's words were piercing, and I felt my heart stop.

Did she… _know_? My paranoia ran wild as I could see it all. Her encouragement had always be to leave Anastasia alone and not even bother looking into her as it would only cause me grief. By her logic, she should be free to live her life without my interference since she clearly didn't want me to be a part of it. Had it been a ploy all along to avoid me finding out about my son? If she'd known, how long had it been?

Elena was hardly a family woman. Among her distaste for vanilla relationships and "love," she had a strong preference against children. As a newlywed, she and her husband put on a show to the community of attempting for a child, though she'd never stopped filling her prescription for birth control. Her perceived infertility had initially brought her closer to my mother. When she decided to become a dominant, she'd had surgery to prevent even the tiniest chance of a Sub Jr. Could her predispositions have pushed her this far?

_You're being ridiculous_, I told myself. I had no proof, just suspicions…

As if reading my thoughts, Elena added, "Your mother told me…"

"I'm sure she did," my jaw remained tight, and more than anything, I wanted her out of my apartment, "The stockholders can rest easy. I really must get back to the office. Gail will let you out," I didn't wait for a response before shrugging into a jacket and grabbing my phone. With the tiniest tilt of the head goodbye, I bolted out of my apartment, nearly taking the numerous flights of stairs just to make it go a bit faster.

By the time I reached the parking garage, I realized I was dialing the only number I found comfort in. It was already nearly ten on the east coast, and I was sure Theodore was asleep. Yet I just wanted to hear his voice, hear his innocence.

I felt ridiculous as I held my breath, waiting for the ringing to end. On the third ring, the phone was answered, though it was muffled on the other line.

"Theo-" I could hear just enough of the muffled voice to know it was Anastasia while the phone shifted, but before she could finish the whole sentence, a much friendlier voice melted me.

"Daddy!" Theodore's exuberance made me wish I could hug him, and more than ever, I hated the stupid idea of split custody. Perhaps we could just move to Nebraska and call it middle ground…

"Teddy! Shouldn't you be asleep?" I was surprised by my own voice. It was kind and… _soft_. I felt more like my father or even Elliott than myself. I could hear a few buttons being pressed, and when the sound changed, I knew I was being put on speakerphone.

"He _was_ asleep, but someone had a nightmare and woke Mommy up. I wonder who that was…" Anastasia clearly began to tickle Theodore because he erupted in a fit of giggles, calling out "_Mommmmmy!_" Part of me knew I should have been somewhat annoyed. Aside from Mia, I'd never been gifted with children. We weren't compatible. They expected affection I didn't know how to give. But listening to Theodore's giggle, I wished I could have a tape of it just to get this rush of endorphins. It was everything I needed, and I could hardly even remember Elena's unfortunate visit.

"Alright, alright, say night night to Daddy, and if you go back to bed, you might even get a bedtime story," Anastasia was right to think that this would excite him as he giggled and quickly obliged.

"Night night, Daaaaadddddy," Theodore's voice was sleepy yet excited in typical toddler fashion, "Mwah!"

"Did you just kiss Daddy goodnight?" Anastasia's joy was evident even through speaker phone, but in all honesty, there was no way she was any happier than I was. After telling him goodnight and that I loved him, I was nearly bawling like a baby in the middle of a parking garage.

What the fuck?

Once he was gone, Anastasia paused, letting a silence creep in before finally asking, "How was your flight?"

She might as well asked about the weather.

"Alright, got settled back in about three… What about your day?" Did I really just ask about her day?

"It was okay… Ended up staying out of work. Not much going on anyways that couldn't be done from a smartphone. I checked in on Essie. She's going to start back soon, though I guess he'll be going to preschool relatively soon, which feels… crazy," Anastasia was actually talking to me, and I was so surprised I didn't know what to say, "Is everything okay?"

"Have you checked the papers?"

Anastasia sighed, "Yeah, I know the photo of Damien and me are in there but-"

"Oh no, not that. It's only the Seattle papers then. That is a relief."

"What are you talking about?" I could picture Ana there, her brow furrowed with her phone in hand.

"The Seattle papers are convinced I'm moving to New York because it turns out I'm not asexual," I explained, and Anastasia fell into a fit of laughter at the mention of asexuality.

"They think you're asexual? _You_?" she could barely speak through her laughter, "The kinky fuckery feels even more kinky now that I know you're not even supposed to _like_ sex."

"Very funny," my voice was dry, though I could certainly see the humor in the situation.

"So, what has convinced them of your change in sexuality?" she was genuinely intrigued.

"You," I answered simply, "Or the fact I bought pancakes. The article was unclear," I teased.

"Well, let's be honest then. It was definitely the pancakes. What guy doesn't get an erection from maple syrup?" she teased me back, though her voice was definitely more subdued, "So they've seen us together then… Do they know about Teddy?"

"No… They don't even know who you are, and nothing about Teddy yet. I suppose this complicates everything," I was nearly crushed under the heavy fear that it was too much for her. The public eye could be the last straw.

_Mommy! _Even though Ana and the phone were in another room, I could hear Theodore impatiently calling, and I knew the conversation was over.

"We'll call you tomorrow… Teddy will want to say goodnight to you," Ana seemed awkward about how to end the call, "Goodnight, Christian."

"Goodnight, Anastasia."

* * *

**Three months. Just about everything that could happen to keep me from writing has happened, so I do apologize. Even my laptop temporarily broke, which is crazy. I've written this about three times, and it's evolved so much from the plan. But I really like where it ended up. What about you guys?**

**I feel like Christian and Ana's relationship had to be this way, though it certainly was not met happily. Real relationships are messy and immature and even downright ridiculous, even in original books, and I think it had to be their choice to actually try again. I definitely want your reactions! Even Elena made her debut, which is extremely exciting! **

**As always, follow, favorite, or review! **

* * *

**Also, thank you for getting me to the 1k review milestone! I love you guys, even when you disagree with me, and it is so amazing to have reached that! We're even a hundred over that, which is just mind-blowing! I never thought anyone would want to read my little experiment, so thank you! **


	18. Fifty Shades of Emails

_**Fifty Shades of Secrets**_

**Chapter Eighteen: Fifty Shades of Emails**

* * *

_**Anastasia Steele,**_

_Send._

I stared at my laptop screen, waiting for the mild horror to subside, but instead, it seemed to only grow and become increasingly vague. Was this overwhelming feeling relief or regret? Recently, I'd become so familiar with the two that I could hardly tell them apart.

It had been a production just getting the email drafted in the first place. After staring at a blank email for nearly two hours last night, I'd finally typed up my notes on the custody agreement and addressed the email to his very discreet assistant, who would forward it to Christian and most likely a lawyer of some kind. It had been Christian's suggestion, but it was easier said than done.

Initially, the idea of the cold transaction was a relief. I could tell myself it was nothing more than notes on a draft of a manuscript I cared about. But the more I tried to see it that way, the more invalid it felt. How could I approach the wellbeing and future of my child how I'd handled _"A Lover's Last Kiss"_ last fall? I couldn't just say "Back to the drawing board" and know that, if it wasn't any better the next time, I could drop the project entirely.

Afterall, I was already standing on thin ice, and the decision to maintain our custody agreement was enough weight to add. But discussing it was like putting on lead shoes and doing a tap dance. If I offended him or he offended me or - God forbid- we both offended each other, this lovely, little peaceful moment was shot to hell. With this in mind, I'd debated not sending it at all, claiming it must be in his assistant's junk file, but that was just immature. That was the entire reason I was keeping the custody agreement.

At age 25, I was not nearly as mature and thoughtful as I liked to think of myself. I was still emotional and said regretful things and made poor decisions, particularly when Christian Grey was around. It wasn't fair to Theodore. I needed to protect him from the crossfire of what a relationship with Christian could lead to. First and foremost, we were his parents, and a custody agreement solidified that.

Thinking about the unsent draft sitting kept me up most of the night, and when I finally poured myself a cup of coffee and forced myself to face the email, I'd had to recall my last phone call with Christian. He trusted me. He cared about Theodore. We were trying _for Teddy._ And it was for Teddy that I'd finally pressed send.

But that hardly made the butterflies go on their merry way home.

I skimmed my notes once more, looking for some typo or potentially offensive phrasing as if I hadn't already checked it a million times, and I was so intent on it that I nearly jumped out of my chair when I heard a knock at the doorway.

"Ana? Something wrong at work?" Essie looked at me with wide eyes, and perched against the doorway in converse and a sundress, I could have easily mistaken her for a child being babysat as opposed to being the babysitter. After being worshipped by Curtis for the last few days, she was ready to get back to work, and I was eager to have her back so that Teddy could have at least some normalcy.

"No, no," I shook my head quickly, scrambling to compose myself, "Why do you ask?"

"Well, you look panicked, and-" Essie nearly smirked as she added, "And you're running late."

Shit.

My eyes flew to the clock on my laptop, and she was right. It was 8:15, and I wasn't even wearing shoes for a workday that began at 9:00.

_So much for having my "welcome back" meeting with Essie on the new building. _

Essie stifled a laugh while I stumbled around, nearly falling out of my chair and shoving on the first pair of shoes I could find. It was moments like this that I genuinely loved Christian Grey's apartment, or more honestly, the new commute it provided. As opposed to working my way uptown in painful heels, I was a fifteen minute walk and past at least three Starbucks on the way there. Even running late, I could get in the door by 8:50 and wouldn't have to burn under the

condescending stares of those who were convinced I must have fucked post-divorce Scarlet to get my job.

I'd felt out of my element, overwhelmed, and just plain out of it for too long. I wanted to feel productive again, and that started today.

"Right, um, Essie," I began as I swiped concealer under my eyes in a vain attempt at hiding my sleepless night, "The concierge is coming up at nine thirty to go over everything about the building and show you where the kids space is, and you have my phone number if you need anything. And Curtis is checking in at eleven just to check on you and, um…" I paused, standing in the middle of the hallway as I tried to remember what I was supposed to say.

After a beat, Essie just smiled at me, "Everything will be fine. I picked up a key on the way in, and Theodore is already eating his Fruit Loops with cartoons. Curtis texted me this morning and is bringing lunch, and afterwards, I'll take Teddy to the park like usual and bring an umbrella just in case. Don't worry. I got this."

And the way Essie smiled and nodded her head over to Teddy, who had somehow been within her sight the entire time, made me forget all of Christian's complaints and trust her.

So, after kissing my son goodbye, I forced myself into the elevator and decided I wouldn't worry about anything. The email would be fine. Teddy would be fine. Work would be fine. And, if it wasn't, I turned my alerts on the highest setting and would deal with it.

In fact, I was feeling so confident and self-reliant that I canceled my coffee order with one of the office interns via text and stopped by a Starbucks about a block away from work to do it myself. Of course, this gesture of independence and responsibility was only half-thought out, and once I found myself in the middle of the pre-9 am rush for coffee, I remembered why the interns got it for us… Until moving to Manhattan, I'd never been particularly into coffee and had never had to brace the intensity of young professionals and teenagers fighting over lattes.

In the mass confusion of ordering in the cramped, impatient environment, I ended up asking for a far more complicated, hipster version of my normal coffee but was too embarrassed to fix it. The barista looked like she would have gladly killed anyone who wanted her to remake a drink, so I just tucked myself in the corner of the hall-way like room and waited.

Watching my phone only made me uneasy. I felt like, if I stared at it long enough, emergencies from work or Christian or Essie would pop up. With the strength of the mid-week productivity surge, emails were pouring into my phone, and I felt the need to go through each individual one as if the marketing department would add "PS. Your apartment is on fire, and Christian Grey is furious at you." Before I could get too upset, I shoved my phone in my bag and focused on anything else.

Staring at the coffee counter through the sea of young professionals going to work and hipsters getting ready for a long day of blogging, I realized that this was the first time in a while I could just _think_ (and would probably be the last time, for a while, too). Now that my ever growing inbox out of sight and temporarily out of mind, I found myself taking a sigh of relief. With my new bi-weekly commute to Seattle and constant attempt at family bonding, my work days felt increasingly longer while my week seemed to be shorter. Gone were the lazy Saturdays of returning emails and skimming manuscripts with Elmo in the background. Honestly, I doubted Christian even knew what a lazy Saturday was, especially when the doors to his red room were open.

Thinking about the red room sent chills down my spine, but I could never tell if it was fear or some sort of kinky excitement. That room represented everything that had failed between us, but it was also our entire relationship. Without the red room, I wouldn't have lost him, but without it, I also never would have had him. I'd spent the last few years blaming those four red walls, but now, I knew it had nothing to do with the ropes or the whips. For fuck's sake, some depraved part of me had secretly loved those. When I ran, I ran from everything inside of me, my love for him, my naivety, and everything I thought I didn't see from him. All the while, I deemed myself a strong, independant woman while acting like a four year old. I was tired of going over this again and again in my mind, but the secret itch to return to the red room forced the issue. How could I want to go back there? …. And why hadn't he asked?

_Maybe I could go back in the red room someday…_

I nearly laughed at myself because the idea still felt so absurd that "Christian Grey" and "someday" could be lumped in together. I'd always thought of him as a "What if", a "It's-Never-Going-To-Happen-But-Let's-Daydream" not a "It'll-Happen" kind of guy. But he was showing me that I was wrong. I'd underestimated him entirely, and to prove it, I'd seen my emotionless dom crying, overjoyed, playful, and even drunk all in under a month. Was I not so pleased by the transformation, I would have checked him into a mental institution for observation.

"Ana?"

_Finally_.

Putting my inner monologue to rest, I weeded my way through the crowd, finding some sense of victory as I approached my latte. I didn't care that it was an over the top rendition of my usual, and I didn't even care that this little win was a typical morning ritual for most people. After a sleepless night, coffee was coffee, even hipster coffee.

But before I could firmly wrap my hands around the piping hot cardboard cup, another hand bumped into mine. My gaze shot up to see another girl reaching for my cup.

_Shit. Maybe it isn't mine_.

Hands retreating, I gave a sheepish smile to the stranger, murmuring a weak apology. It wasn't until then that I got a good look at my Starbucks Stranger, and my polite smile faltered.

The woman looked like she'd been to hell and back. She couldn't have been much older than me, but her dull, chocolate brown eyes implied a woman who'd aged far beyond her years. Her frail body was wrapped up in a black trenchcoat still damp from the morning rain, and her dark brown hair seemed to cast shadows on pale skin, making her seem all the more sullen.

There was something so familiar about her, a resemblance tucked beneath the horrors of what appeared to be a particularly unsettling mental state, and while my eyes awkwardly cast away to the glass, I realized what the resemblance was to. It was me…

But the truly eerie thing was the way she looked at me. It was as if she was staring at a mirror, but it was one she wanted to smash…

"It's a venti cinnamon chai latte, extra whipped cream," the barista was impatient to get us out of the way of other customers, and to speed us up even further, she proceeded to yell out the next few orders in our ears. When I looked back to the girl to see if her order matched mine, it was night and day to the one I'd stared at.

With a polite smile and a tug on the sleeve of her trench coat to cover the bandages, she murmured, "Not mine," and disappeared back into the crowd just as quickly as she'd popped out of it. I wanted to follow her, to learn more and better understand the unease at the pit of my stomach. But I was running late, and when I looked over my shoulder at the door, she was nowhere to be seen.

I continued my commute in silence, periodically looking over my shoulder. Even in buildings, I felt her stare burning into my skin. And, when I got into the elevator and watched the crowd through the closing door, I could have sworn she was there watching me. But then the doors closed, and the moment was over before I could settle it.

* * *

_**Christian Grey,**_

**...**

**From: Christian Grey**

**Subject: Noted**

**To: Anastasia Steele**

**As for your notes, I got them this morning and have read over them. For the most part, we agree, and on what we do not, compromise can be reached. My lawyer is reading the documents now, Miss Steele.**

**Now that that is out of the way, how is the empty bed?**

**CEO, Grey Enterprise Holdings, Inc**

**...**

The more I reread the email, the more I panicked about how much time had elapsed since she'd read the email. I'd expected the custody agreement to be messy and, at times, hard to navigate, but I had _not _expected to feel this uncomfortable at making casual conversation.

For the most part, what drew me to Anastasia was the ease she seemed to put me at. While communicating was an issue, conversation had never been. The banter was enjoyable, and with my castle in the sky feeling increasingly cold and lonely, I'd hoped that ending the email on the playful note would give me a sense of participation in their family life.

There was a nagging fear that, if I wasn't there, they'd forget about me again. That they were better off without me and that, once I'd stepped off of New York City soil, their lives reverted back to a stronger existence where Theodore still didn't know who "Daddy" was.

I'd come to need that title. I'd come to need Theodore. He was a shining beacon of innocence in the darkness, and it was if just talking to him was a drug. I felt stronger knowing that he looked up to me. I wanted to be a better person, but I didn't know how yet. While the idea of fatherhood and its inherent responsibilities terrified me, Teddy did not. He placed his trust firmly in me, and my stomach dropped at the idea of letting him down.

Carrick made being a father look easy. He'd truly acted as one even though the children sitting on his lap on Father's Day were all orphans who'd come from hellacious backgrounds, and he seemed to take everything in stride without fearing the consequences of messing up. He'd been more careful with me because I'd always been damaged goods, but even when my rebellious stage had me coming in at three in the morning smelling of cheap whiskey and weed at the tender age of thirteen, I didn't doubt his love.

But would any of them love the monster inside?

Theodore, especially, could never see it. Ana had already peaked into my depraved nature and wisely ran away, and I didn't want to ever lose her again.

I considered locking the red room and throwing the key to the bottom of the ocean, but I still found myself wanting part of it. The idea of Anastasia tied up in that room-

_Stop it, Christian_.

My spine shot up straighter, and feeling the impending guilt of my thoughts, I refreshed my email server until I finally saw Anastasia's name on an incoming email.

**Subject: Are you kidding me?**

I stared at the screen in horror. Shit, shit, shit.

Hesitantly, I opened the email, my jaw slowly tightening as I prepared myself for what would most likely be another fight leading me to Manhattan in the middle of the night.

**...**

**To: Christian Grey**

** Subject: Are you kidding me?**

** From: Anastasia Steele**

** Are you kidding me?**

** As if Teddy let me sleep alone. But I will admit a two year old kicking my back was far less preferable than you… And honestly, I didn't sleep much at all. I was terrified you'd disapprove of my notes on the custody agreement.**

** What about you? Seattle rain making you lonely?**

** Anastasia Steele**

** Vice President of Davidson Publishing, Manhattan**

**...**

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding when I realized she'd purposely made a misleading title, and I found myself imagining Teddy crawling up into the bed in the middle of the night after a nightmare. At his age, I was plagued with them, but my fear of affection and touch left me isolated in my paralyzing fear. Grace, when she heard the screams, would come to comfort me, but she limited in what she could do. I could see the pain in her eyes that she couldn't help, but I never understood it until I thought about not being able to help Theodore.

After witnessing his first nightmare in Manhattan, I'd been terrified they were reoccurring, and imagining that he'd had one so soon after I left made me want to fly back to the east coast immediately.

**...**

**To: Anastasia Steele**

** Subject: Fair Point**

** From: Christian Grey**

** I'm pleased to know I am preferred to a toddler's foot in the back. I will keep this in mind, Miss Steele. I'm sure you'd also prefer the weather here. I'm told it's been raining off and on all morning in the Big Apple. Not that I'm biased, but out of pure, **_**weather-based**_** concerns, Seattle seems like a far better city.**

** As for lonely, hardly. Babyproofing Escala. Apparently, glass railings and unrestricted staircases are, as I've been told, a "no, no." **

** Christian Grey**

**Shocked CEO, Grey Holdings Enterprise, Inc. **

**...**

**To: Christian Grey**

** Subject: Amazed**

** From: Anastasia Steele**

** No! Next, you'll tell me forks left next to electrical outlets aren't a good idea! **

** Also. Fifty babyproofing the Bachelor Kingdom (formerly known as Escala)? I genuinely can't imagine it. Babygate and everything? No, no, don't tell me. I want to be surprised. **

** Anastasia Steele**

** Intrigued Vice President of Davidson Publishing, Manhattan**

**...**

**To: Anastasia Steele**

** Subject: Fifty? **

** From: Christian Grey**

** Either you discovered my forged birth certificate in my files, or you are grossly misjudging my age. At most, I look a good forty five, Miss Steele. Or at least, that's what the plastic surgeon told me when I went under the knife…**

** Ah, yes, the "baby gate." I've become very familiar with those words. In fact, a woman in pink pastel nearly fainted upon learning I'd never owned one. Had her commission not been strong enough, I'm sure she would have stormed out.**

** Christian Grey**

** Old Man CEO, Grey Holdings Enterprise, Inc.**

**...**

**To: Christian Grey**

** Subject: Silver Fox Alert**

** From: Anastasia Steele**

** Only forty five? There goes my silver fox fetish…**

** And please keep the fact I'd stolen your file away from the police. I already have a warrant out, thank you, Mr. **_**Fifty Shades of Fucked Up**_**. You told me that once… **

** I wonder… Do you keep nicknames on me? If not, I suggest "Baby Mama." Has a good ring to it.**

** Anastasia Steele**

** Best Baby Mama Evah, Manhattan**

**...**

I found myself smiling as we seemed to answer the emails before they could even come in. We'd always struggled with in-person communication, but email seemed to lift the burdens to reveal the Anastasia I truly missed. In the time apart from her, I'd archived the email chains, and after having them removed from the company server, I'd been a creepy sap and had them printed and bound. As I sat at my desk, listening to the work below, I could see the leather spine in my bookcase. It was solemnly placed next to the copy of Tess she'd returned to me.

I realized now that she clearly remembered more than I'd expected her to. I wonder if she remembered all of it, if she remembered this. Given the end, our tumultuous relationship was primarily tied to the more unfortunate events such as my less than friendly reaction to her virginity, the times I'd coldly pushed her away, and the final time in the red room. But I hoped she remembered the better parts more than I did, Savannah in particular.

I was tempted to fly the three of down there, immerse ourselves in the blistering heat and southern serenity. But on cue, my smartphone buzzed with another work reminder, and my dreams of a surprise getaway was filed away for now.

**...**

**To: Anastasia Steele**

** Subject: Baby Mama, it is.**

** From: Christian Grey**

** No, Miss Steele, I have neglected to nickname you, but now that you mention it, Baby Mama is a lovely alternative to Anastasia. Far more respectable, and in fact, you **_**are **_**the "Best Baby Mama EVAH."**

** I do remember telling you, though I did not know you that you remembered. What all do you remember? **

** Curious CEO, Grey Holdings Enterprise, Inc. **

**...**

**To: Christian Grey**

** Subject: I know your secrets**

** From: Anastasia Steele**

** I remember a lot, even your biggest secret of all. Yes, Mr. Grey, I know that you… **_**snore**_**. **

** While the sex was amazing, it hardly gave me amnesia.**

** -A**

**...**

The email was easy to overanalyze. The lack of her usual sign-off was surprising, though I reminded myself that she easily could have switched to a mobile device set to a different signature. The message was short, but she'd maintained the sarcasm, meaning she could hardly be furious. Or did that mean she was furious? Without her squirming or seething in front of me, I was clueless. She was hard enough to read in person, but once the unexpected woman was behind a keyboard, all of the rules were thrown into the wind.

The distance, which was at first irritating, seemed more and more impossible. I felt the need to close it. After all, Grey Publishing was based out of Seattle, and with her experience, it'd be easy for her to take the helm. Bellevue was hardly a bad place to read Teddy, and of course, it wasn't as if she entirely needed to work…

_She'd fucking kill you, Grey,_ I reminded myself, forcing the idea of a stay-at-home Anastasia out of my mind as I reached for my phone. I needed an appointment with a realtor...

* * *

**Long time, no see, I know. This summer has been a wild one. When I wasn't dealing with family illnesses, it was applications or technical issues or pretty much anything to get me off subject. But with a new season comes a new me, and thankfully, a new chapter.**

**What were your thoughts? It may have been a bit of fluff, but it definitely laid some ground work for future chapters. Speaking of future chapters, when is the next one? No, it isn't months away. Check back next Tuesday at 10 pm EST for the next chapter! It's already in the works and needs editing now. **

* * *

**Serious question, are you guys wanting "lemons" or opposed to them? I've considered adding some but wasn't sure if it is something you wanted. Also, how is the formatting on the emails? I went back and forth on how to do them. I may add a poll on your thoughts on lemons, so check my profile. **

**Please let me know what you think via Twitter ( HAWTgeekOfficial), reviews, pm, etc. ! Speaking of Twitter, I have started using my account more, so follow me there to get updates on my fanfictions! **


	19. Fifty Shades of Finally

_**Fifty Shades of Secrets**_

**Chapter Nineteen: Fifty Shades of Finally **

* * *

**Anastasia Steele,**

The rain had descended on Seattle, coating the city in a grey shroud and bringing the downtown traffic to a standstill. The constant tap against the car roof had put Theodore to sleep somewhere along the drive from the airport to Christian's apartment, and he was contently snoring in his car seat while his mother nervously strummed her fingers on the car window.

In New York, I rarely took cars and had forgotten the feeling of being trapped in one. We were only a few blocks away from Escala, but knowing that Christian Grey was at the end of the journey made it feel like miles.

Christian Grey seemed to be just like the color he was named for. It was stunning yet distant, not nearly as friendly or warm as a color such as yellow, but inside the bleakness was this tranquility that made you feel like warmth wasn't all it was cracked up to be. And it seemed that the undertones made the shade, and while he was _50 Shades of Fucked Up_, he was also _50 Shades of Moodswings_.

In the last week, I'd talked more openly and honestly than I probably ever had with him, yet our face-to-face contact had been at minimum. We'd truly tested the arsenal of technology with text messages, emails, Skype, and for a brief period of time, Words with Friends. In theory, we were the best candidates for a long distance relationship as we functioned best many miles apart, but that was doomed thanks to the aching pit in my stomach.

More than ever, I wanted him. I wanted to be around him and yell at his stubbornness, and I wanted to be as close as possible even though the space between us acted as a buffer. I felt like a teenager again, suffering from a crush on someone far out of my league. I had a schoolyard craving for Christian that only intensified with every banter-filled email and heartwarming family video chat. I was surely the only woman going over custody paperwork with her ex while _blushing_.

I was either going out of my mind or completely in love with Christian Grey, and in all honesty, neither were preferential.

_Buzz. Buzz. Buzzzzzzz._

I fumbled for my phone still tucked in my carry on, feeling like a giddy high schooler when I saw his caller ID, and this embarrassing scene had earned a snicker from Essie in the passenger seat. In some ways, this was the perfect time for her to tag along and prove her competency to Christian before we reached the childcare clause, but I questioned my timing. We were getting along so well, and bringing the nanny he hated was probably a pretty bad idea.

**INCOMING TEXT FROM Christian Grey: You're late.**

**Ana: Your impatience is hardly a virtue, Mr. Grey. **

**Christian: A virtue, perhaps not. But all with good intentions. I do hear that toddlers who have missed nap time can be considered "cranky."**

He wasn't wrong. It'd was hard enough to convince Teddy at home that naptime was a good thing, but when we were flying across the country, I had the added job of convincing him that naptime was still naptime in the air. In the end, it was his _Thomas the Train _blanket that did the trick. He fell asleep in the plane, and with some very careful maneuvering and silence, I'd gotten him into his car seat without waking him. Just in case, I lowered my phone's notification volume. I didn't want to repeat the process in bumper to bumper traffic.

**Ana: He's asleep, thank you.**

**Christian: Must be the help of the third passenger.**

Shit. I knew I should have told him I brought Essie.

**Ana: I thought it'd be good for you to get to know her before you deemed her totally inadequate. You can put her to the test this weekend.**

**Christian: I fully intend to, Miss Steele.**

**Ana: Kinky.**

**Christian: Now, kinky is an entirely different request.**

I stared at the chat bubble, tempted to tell him it was a request I was likely to make. My inner goddess was dying for just a peak in the red room after getting a taste of vanilla. Over the last few years, I'd forgotten what sex with Christian was like. It was all consuming and entirely addicting. I found myself thinking that I could handle just a little taste. I didn't have to be a sub. He didn't have to be hearts and flowers. Maybe we could just… _be_.

I typed out a dozen replies, though I knew Christian could tell I was typing. Maybe I could be mysterious with "We'll see" or blunt with "Fuck me" or change the subject entirely. Deciding on the last one, I hurriedly replied.

**Ana: I can see Escala now. Sure you don't want me running in the rain? It always works out in "hearts and flowers" movie. **

**Christian: No broken ankles on my weekend. We're fully booked. No room for hospital visits.**

Fully booked?

My face settled into a frown as my hopes for the weekend faded. Even when I'd started the daydream of what this weekend could be, I knew it was highly improbable, but that didn't make the blow any less crushing. I'd fancied that I'd perhaps tell him I loved him or at least get a fair amount of rainy day, vanilla sex…

Hoping to avoid a regrettable text, I slid my phone back into my carryon and watched with idle curiosity as the people on the streets ducked in and out of awnings, wondering if I could be one of them. It was hardly a secret that Christian Grey wanted us here, undoubtedly willing to put Grey Publishing at my feet in spite of my protests. Every single feminist movie told me to avoid exactly this, to not let a man take control, but the more I thought about it, the more ridiculous the notion was. Was I really keeping my son thousands of miles away from his father just to prove a point?

The idea of letting too much go terrified me. Uprooting my life, my child, and my career all in the span of a few months was insane, but so was flying back and forth every weekend. I wanted to establish a family for my child, but I selfishly didn't want to give up the independence I'd found in Manhattan. When I was in Seattle, I was under Grey's umbrella, a new point of gossip about the reclusive businessman's secret life, and I didn't want to forever be a joke.

I was so lost in thought that I didn't notice Taylor finally getting into the parking garage, so when I spotted him outside the window, waiting to open my door, I was momentarily frozen in shock. With a sheepish smile, I moved away from the door and started to wake up the two nappers next to me. As Essie started to unbuckle Theodore and grab his over packed bag, I nervously found myself standing next to Taylor, awkwardly watching him get the luggage out of the town car.

"Um, Taylor," I chewed on my lower lip, not sure if the question I wanted to ask was even appropriate. Surely, Taylor spent the most time with Christian and had the best opportunity to observe his mood, but did that mean he was willing to talk to me about it? Were there rules that dictated he wouldn't, and even if there weren't, did I know Taylor well enough for that?

"Yes, Miss Steele," Taylor was trying his best not to laugh. It felt strange hearing that come from him. It was a Christian term and usually a pretty sexual one at that, and I had to remind myself it was my actual name.

"Oh, please call me, Ana," I laughed nervously, "Um, I was just wondering-and if you don't want to talk about it, it's fine- but well… Has Christian been in a…" I swallowed, "pretty good mood?"

Taylor looked over his shoulder at me, evaluating the question. He had that ex-military expression that reminded me of Ray, and it was probably this similarity that made me feel I could trust him. During my short relationship with Christian, Taylor had always been friendly and polite, and I hoped we could be friends. It'd surely make things easier.

"Mr. Grey has been in a very good mood," he gave me a smile that told me it was all I was getting out of him, but it satisfied me enough to not push any farther. "Good" is good. There was surely enough to put Christian into a perpetually sour mood, but he was _good_.

After a beat, Taylor looked back up at me and politely asked, "Would you like me to accompany you to the penthouse?"

Right. I need to go to the penthouse. I can't lean on the side of this car forever.

Standing up a bit straighter and moving away from the car, I shook my head, "Oh, no, it's fine, Taylor. Thank you. Christian sent me the code earlier to get in," I nodded softly, looking over to Essie who handed me Theodore and shouldered his bag.

The three of us were silent as we took the elevator to the top floor of Escala. Essie was definitely suffering from jet lag, Teddy was just starting to wake up, and I was nervous as hell. Why did this weekend feel so different? Why did I want to accomplish so much? It was easier to move slow, but part of me wanted to scream it from the rooftops.

_Ding. _

The elevator doors slowly opened to reveal his penthouse in all of its glory and its owner standing in the foyer in all of his glory…

"Daddy!" Seeing Christian finally brought the hyperactivity out of my toddler, and he could barely wait for me to put him down to sprint towards his father's knees. I was expecting a massive collision, but Christian elegantly picked up the sprinting toddler and tucked him safely in his grasp.

"Teddy Bear," Christian grinned at him, smoothing back his curls, and my knees felt weak. This felt like _Fall-In-Love-With-Me_ montage like in a Lifetime movie.

Christian's gaze slowly drifted to Essie, who was still standing beside me in the landing. Next to the massiveness of Escala, she seemed even smaller and even younger. The teddy bear tee shirt probably wasn't helping anything…

"You must be Esmerelda Lopez. I'm Christian Grey," Christian smoothly closed the distance, offering his freehand for a handshake, and Teddy giggled at Essie, who in turn smiled broadly.

"Call me, Essie, please," she took his handshake.

"Essie," he repeated, still wearing a civil smile, "Mrs. Jones is in the kitchen. She can help you find your way around. We've just added the babyproofing, so bear with us." His attention turned back to Teddy, and his smile turned into one of true happiness. And it was completely mesmerizing, "There is something you'll like in your room. Can Essie show you?"

Teddy's grin spread from ear-to-ear, and when Teddy kissed his daddy's cheek, I thought I was absolutely going to pass out. How could something be that sweet? Even after Essie had already started towards the kitchen holding Teddy's hand, I stood there staring at him like a complete idiot. I already desperately wanted to fuck the man. This wasn't fair at all…

With Christian's eyes on me, I felt like I was under inspection, and I instantly regretted not changing in the plane. My hair was still a mess, and for all I knew I was covered in goldfish crackers. After what felt like an eternity, Christian's mouth finally parted and a smirk came through.

"What are those?" he seemed amused with himself, and I frantically looked down at the pants he gestured to. I expected a giant rip on the side or a bleach stain or God-Knows-What, but they were just my yoga pants.

"Yoga pants," I fidgeted with them a bit, looking at my reflection in the stone to see if there was something I missed.

"No, yoga pants are only yoga pants when one is participating in yoga," Christian's arms were crossed, and I laughed softly, raising an eyebrow.

"What are they when _one isn't participating in yoga_?" I quoted him, feeling particularly playful, and I seemed to ask just the right question by the expression on his face.

"They are _Look-At-My-Ass _pants."

I cracked up.

Holy shit, Christian Grey can be funny.

"If you're trying to say you want to stare at my ass, it is hardly my pants' fault, Mr. Grey," I quipped back. I didn't even realize I was biting my lip until he crossed the distance, standing so close to me that I could feel the heat of his breath and smell his cologne. His thumb traced along my lower lip, gently tugging it from between my teeth, and I stared up at him like a deer in headlights.

"You're biting your lip." I could feel his whisper on my skin, and I nodded my head softly.

"Is there something else my lip should be doing?" I murmured. I wasn't even sure why I said it or how I worked up the nerve to, and it clearly surprised Christian. My inner goddess seemed to shove the timid girl a way, and my lips gently wrapped around the edge of his thumb before breaking out in a playful smile at his reaction. With his eyes zeroed in on my mouth, he was the epitome of surprise. "Are you alright, Mr. Grey?" I tilted my head innocently, and he actually laughed as his hand retreated from my mouth.

Christian Grey's laughter was enough to fill my stomach with butterflies.

"You're always a surprise, Miss Steele," he shook his head, eyes still watching me, and after thinking for a moment, he tilted his head towards the staircase, "You haven't seen the very comical babyproofing. Care to see before dinner?"

The way he looked at me implied I was getting far more than a tour of baby gates, and I nodded softly, "Babyproofing Escala? I'll need to see it to believe it."

"After you," Christian motioned for me to go ahead of him, and my face must have conveyed my confusion because he happily explained, "I might as well enjoy the view. Surely, the pants should be put to use."

Oh.

My cheeks flushed bright pink, and I started to laugh softly as I followed his direction and took the lead. There was something about Christian Grey watching you that made you feel infinitely powerful and so weak at the same time. My skin burned under his stare, aching for more than his eyes.

"Oh my God… Is that…?" I stopped, right before the stairs, turning back to see that Christian was actually staring at my ass. My finger was lamely pointing at a baby gate that had seamlessly been included in the design of his modern, masculine apartment. I didn't want to know how much it had cost him to integrate family safety. It just made me happy he did it.

"Ah, yes," Christian laughed, "Let me help," he leaned over my side, leading my hand towards the latch and helping me unhook it before whispering in my ear, "Got it?"

I should have been mildly upset by how sexy he made babygates, but I didn't care. I was relieved to feel his cold skin on me. I felt like I was forever just waiting for him to touch me, too afraid of hurting him to actually do it myself. Everything was in his court, and I'm sure he enjoyed it this way. I just wished I could touch him for once without his panic… I wanted him to trust me.

"Got it," I repeated. It was hard not to sprint up the stairs and pull him into the nearest available bedroom and just get it the fuck over with. It was the waiting that killed me. It made me question everything too much. Was I coming on too strong or not strong enough? Was it that obvious that I'd spent the last week realizing my love for the asshole and desperately wanting to have sex with him? And furthermore, how sick was it that I wanted to screw him so badly? Was it putting us both in a corner that would fuck up any possibility of a relationship, or were we establishing a Co-Parents with Benefits arrangement without realizing it?

_Shut up, Ana_, my subconscious chastised me.

While my time in Escala had been short-lived, I would have known the door to the red room anywhere. It called to me, enticing me to trace my fingertips along the shaker inserts in the wood, and I glanced over my shoulder to him, silently asking him to see it again. The Red Room of Pain was etched into my mind, but something inside of me needed to be reminded of the details. I wanted to feel the leather on my skin, feel the silk of the sheets, and even just stare at the deep shade of ominous red on the walls.

Feeling jolted back to reality, I stepped away from the door and glanced over my shoulder to see Christian. He was understandably taken aback. Neither of us ever thought I'd want to see the door open again. A flicker of panic entered Christian's eyes, and it was enough to make me instinctively move closer to him. Casting my eyes to the floor, I mumbled an apology and waited for his response. He was so still, so silent…

Had I misread everything?

Finally, his hand took mine, and without a word, he led me to the room at the end of the hall. It was the one he'd introduced as the sub room so many years ago, yet it'd been hit with such a major renovation that it could hardly be considered the same room. The new paint and furniture were all attempts at rewriting history, but I still wished we could have been down in his room instead.

Behind us, Christian closed the door and twisted the lock, watching me for any signs of disapproval. I stood just as silent at the edge of the bed, not sure what I was even waiting for. As he stepped closer to me, it felt increasingly hard to breathe. Butterflies started to swarm in my stomach, growing until every limb was practically buzzing in anticipation. With his hand on the back of my neck, he pulled me closer so slowly, so gently that I almost couldn't tell he was moving me at all. Everything he gave me made me want more. He was the king of delayed gratification, and I started to lose my grip on time. I didn't know if I'd been waiting ten seconds or ten hours. All I knew was that I wanted to feel his soft lips and let the last three years go.

And then Christian closed the gap.

His touch electrified my skin, making my clothes feel far too heavy and our kiss far too slow. Instantly, I was consumed with this primal need that begged for more, for _faster, for harder_. I'd thought that time had skewed my memory of intimacy with Christian. Surely, it couldn't be as marvelous as I remembered, but it was. No, it was even better. Everything that happened between us only made us stronger. I wasn't a young woman seduced by the mystery. I was madly in love with this man whose hands were slowly moving to my ass…

"Ana," he sighed my name against my skin as his lips strayed from mine. They rested against my chin, nipping at my jawbone in a way that made me gasp, "Are you sure?"

I was so stunned by the question that it took me a moment to process that he'd asked it, and I could feel his body still in panic. This was the first time I really knew I was sure. It wasn't pure lust. It wasn't anger. It wasn't alcohol. It was me wanting to feel him again, and I nodded slowly, biting my lower lip again.

"Undoubtedly."

Christian's eyes filled with relief for a moment before overwhelming passion. His thumbs hooked in the waistband of my yoga pants, one hand on each hip, and he tugged me closer so that my body was flat against his. The proximity was intoxicating, and I savored each rise and fall of his chest. I could feel his smirk on my lips as he slowly started to pull down the yoga pants one inch by inch. I made a mental reminder to wear yoga pants more often…

He bent down, kissing along my right hip and thigh as he exposed more and more of my skin. The kisses were more deliberate each time, and when he finally reached my ankle, he playfully nipped my skin before helping me step out of the pants.

Christian's eyebrow raised at the panties I'd been wearing. It was one of the many items his personal shopper had delivered to New York. The deep, emerald green seemed to be a theme in her selections, not that I minded, and Christian clearly didn't. It was silky and lacy and not exactly what most girls wore on flights, but there was no way I was telling him it was a coincidence.

"The bra matches if you care to see," I smirked in answer to his silent question, and he just grinned.

"All in due time, Miss Steele…" The way he said my name made me want to melt to the floor, and my lips parted in delight as his lips moved to the opposite ankle, kissing up my left leg. This time, his attention was on my thigh, leaving little claims on my body as he went. As his lips pressed into my hipbone, my fingers instinctively tangled in his hair, and this earned a moan from Christian that was better than porn.

With one hand, he started to push up the cotton of my tee shirt, his lips against my stomach. His cold fingertips surprised my warm skin, and I gasped in surprise, pressing myself closer to his hands. It was killing me that Christian wasn't just ripping off my clothes and taking me right there in the middle of the room, and I wasn't entirely sure how much I could wait. My fingers hovered over the shoulder of his blazer, and I slowly whispered, "Can I?"

Christian nodded into my skin, focused on the task of kissing a perfect line up my body. I fumbled with his jacket, shoving it to the floor, and I let out a cry of delight as his teeth suck into the skin beneath my breasts.

"Fuck!" I gasped, and Christian elegantly stood, pulling my shirt off effortlessly and taking a moment to appreciate the matching silk bra. Gracefully, Christian shed his shirt, his muscles flexing in the process, and I found myself tucking my hands behind my back to resist the urge to explore…

"Hands behind your back, Miss Steele?" he teased, "Good girl," he whispered in my ear, gently biting at my lobe as he pressed me towards the bed. I leaned back against the plush bed, melting in, and I grinned wide as he followed me, sitting on his knees between my thighs. I could see his growing erection through his pants and leaned up a bit, watching his reaction as I reached for the belt buckle. I waited for him to freeze and panic, but he just kissed my shoulder, letting me strip him down.

I'd forgotten how absolutely perfect his cock was. It was so thick and big and hard…

I squeezed his cock in my palm and grinned as I heard his moan. I would never, ever get tired of that noise.

"Fuck," Christian managed, kicking off the rest of his pants and pressing his lips to the swell of my breast, kissing every bit of lace as he expertly unclasped my bra. Discarding the lingerie with ease, his mouth wrapped around my nipple, making me cry out in pleasure.

"Quiet, quiet," he reminded me, smirking up at me, and I realized he was trying to make me scream. Oh now that's not fair… Before I could complain, his palm pressed against my sex, and my hips instinctively bucked to him. Desperately, my lips clashed against his, and my desire only intensified. I needed more, so much fucking more.

"Please, I can't wait," I whispered, moving his hand a bit further into me, and that's it. Finally, the delayed gratification and merciless teasing is even too much for him, and I watched with a parted mouth as he strips completely down until I can see his perfect cock. My panties are practically ripped off of me, thrown to the floor with the rest of my clothes, and I found myself holding my breath as I waited.

_Oh. My. God._

Taking his sweet time, Christian's length slowly filled me, making my toes curl as I relished every second of it. His hands traced up my hips, along my sides, and briefly detoured at my breasts before pinning my hands down with a smirk. Even though I knew there was some deeper meaning I should have been upset about, I couldn't help but think it was hot as hell… With his hips pressing down on mine, further pinning me to the bed, he held his entire length in my body, and I felt whole.

And then he thrust.

I moaned out in delight as he seemed to hit the perfect spot just how I wanted it, and he kissed my lips to silence me as he delivered another, hard thrust. My noises were muffled by him, and he bit my lip as he suddenly slowed down. My eyes widened in surprise, giving my best pout as I whispered, "Tease…"

Christian smirked into my lips, "Should I go slower, Miss Steele?"

My response was immediate, and with a very fast shake of the head, I whispered no. Moving my hips tight against his just to feel him go deeper, I murmured, "Please. Faster…"

"Beg…" I felt his words more than I heard them. His kiss had spread across my body from my arms to my shoulders to my chest to my chin. Each cool, sweet kiss was heaven on my burning skin.

I didn't have to think about it, "Please, _please_, harder. Faster, Mr. Grey."

The request was met in spades. It was as if he erupted, needing it just as much as I did. And holy shit, it felt amazing, too. I squirmed beneath his grasp, finding it impossible to keep still, and Christian just pressed more weight into me, keeping me still. Knowing that I was about to scream, I pressed my lips fervently to his, pouring every ounce of passion I had into him.

I was so close… _so close… so-so-_

_ Fuck!_

"C-Christian," I managed, my body tightening around him, and I didn't even need to finish the sentence. He nodded, pressing his forehead to mine as he told me that he was close, too. His words were ringing in my ears, urging me to cum and reminding me how fucking amazing this was, but I couldn't get a word out. I was completely lost to pleasure.

Finally, when I thought I just couldn't take it any longer, my orgasm completely enveloped me, and I could have sworn that the world stopped for a minute. The release was blinding that I could hardly process he'd hit his climax until I felt his weight collapse on me.

"My darling girl," Christian whispered, slowly leaning up on his elbows. He'd released my wrists, and it felt nearly impossible to keep them to myself. He was mine. I wanted him to be mine… How could I not touch him? It'd been easy before, but now that he had his fingers tangled in my hair and his smile was so warm, it was anything but.

"Let's stay here," I suggested, gently running my fingers through the only part of him I could touch, his hair, "Theodore's probably asleep from all of the time change anyway…. It can be just us." I was terrified of letting this moment end. This was too raw, too real. What if reality didn't mesh with this? What if we were really doomed and stepping foot out of that door was only the beginning?

"Unfortunately, when I told you we were fully booked, I did not mean with sex. Though, in retrospect, I would have rather scheduled it that way," Christian seemed amused with himself, and a frown started to settle in.

"Christian… what are we supposed to be doing?" I swallowed, fearing the worst. Was there some black tie affair that involves a revealing gown not meant for my new love bites? Shit, drinks with Mrs. Robinson? For fuck's sake, it could be a root canal.

"We should have about an hour before they said they'd be here, but my mother is always early…"

* * *

Looking at the Grey family felt like gazing into the world of a catalog. They were connected with each other, beautiful, and so _happy_. Grace could even sport a white dress and shoes without staining it, and there was a toddler in the room! I thought families like this only existed in Christmas movies…

Yet, somehow, I didn't feel like the odd man out. They were so welcoming and warm, and if they did hate me for not bringing Theodore to them sooner, they didn't show it. Even Carrick was nice tonight. Something smelled delicious in the kitchen, the air was full of laughter, and I hadn't even fucked it up yet. It was everything I'd always hoped for in a family, and they actually felt like mine.

In spite of the awkwardness of our last meeting, we'd had an amazing night. Dinner was amazing. The chocolate soufflé Mia brought for dessert was even better. After raiding the closets, you could barely tell I'd been screwing Christian upstairs a few hours ago. The conversation was light enough to avoid fighting. In fact, the topics remained happy and included Mia's restaurant, Kate and Elliott's wedding, a pending renovation of Kate's new townhouse, and most notably, Teddy.

Right now, they were crowded around the fireplace, fawning over Teddy, and it was a perfect sight. Theodore had the family he deserved, and Christian seemed so genuinely happy. In spite of his fears-or maybe because of them-, he'd become an amazing father. It had left the entire room in awe, and at various points of the evening, I could see Grace wiping her tears of joy out of her eyes. And when she saw Christian calm Teddy's boo-boo, she'd actually hugged me.

"Oh, Ana," Grace's voice permeated the noise, and I felt my heart stop. What did I do? I looked around with a sense of panic, checking for some accidently broken object or a spill. Maybe something with Theodore… She stepped towards me, motioning towards my shoulder, and I followed her gaze to the hickey Christian had left about an hour ago. I'd carefully picked a conservative, long sleeve dress just in case, but the neckline had betrayed me…

Kate stifled a laugh by taking another sip of her drink, giving me a knowing smirk as she tugged Mia away from the rest of the group. Innocent Mia didn't understand why she was being pulled from a conversation about her own status as godmother, but when she caught me tugging my shirt over a hickey, she had to cover her mouth from giggling.

"That looks fresh. What happened?" Grace was so concerned I actually felt pretty bad about lying to her. Especially after how much she'd seemed to bond with me, I wanted to maintain her friendship, and to make it even worse, she glanced towards her daughter, "Mia, why don't you get some ice?"

"Oh no, that's not necessary," I squeaked, but Grace was tugging me to the kitchen. Her nurturing her instincts were so heartwarming…

"Ana, what happened? It's such an odd shape. I'd say almost like a…" Kate was enjoying this too much as she perched herself on a nearby bar stool, watching as Mia struggled to suppress her enjoyment. Kate playfully pondered it, "Like a golf ball or, I don't know, even a mout-"

"Um, the plane," I blurted out. Shit.

"The plane?" Grace repeated. Even she knew it was a pathetic excuse.

"Yeah," I swallowed, "My carry-on. It fell on my shoulder. Don't worry about it. It'll go away. Doesn't even hurt."

Luckily, Grace didn't get to ask many questions because, off in the living room, Theodore was calling out for "grandma," and I don't think anything could have kept her away from her only grandchild wanting her in the room. After very politely excusing herself, Grace left the room, and once she was out of earshot, Mia and Kate lost their shit.

I grimaced, my cheeks turning bright pink.

"Oh, '_the plane did it!' _Fucking priceless!" Kate was nearly doubled over in a fit of laughter, and Mia wasn't much better. She was trying hard to be nice about it, but with Kate egging her on, Mia struggled to keep it together.

"I didn't even think you two were…" Mia was trying to turn this into girl talk, which somehow made it even more embarrassing.

"We weren't," I mumbled, squirming as I leaned against the massive island.

"So, you're like a thing now?" Mia was eager for me to say yes, but I was afraid to. I didn't want to jinx things. Of course, I hoped we were a thing, and I felt like we were. But I didn't want Mia planning a fall wedding in the car ride home.

"What about you and Ethan? Is that new?" I changed the subject. I'd been surprised to see Ethan on her arm tonight. When I lived with Kate, I'd gotten close to her brother, and for years, Kate had been leading the crusade for me as a sister-in-law. It never happened, and I didn't expect to see him settled anytime soon. He was a beach bum on the perpetual quest for the best surf, and I would never have paired him with the very settled chef. But they so happy, and it made me feel another pang of regret. It was yet another thing I'd missed.

"Actually-" Mia started, flushing as she played with her chin-length bob.

"You're changing the subject," Kate pointed out with a smirk, and Mia seemed a bit relieved to not have to explain her relationship status, which meant there was a story I needed to hear. "So, how did it all go down? Are we talking like some lame jet-lag shit, or is Christian secretly freaky? I feel like he's either insanely boring or-"

"No, no, no," Mia plugged her ears, "I hear enough about one brother's sex life. No more."

I struggled not to let out a sigh of relief. Aside from my NDA, it wasn't like I wanted to detail Christian's sex life, and I doubted I would survive an interrogation.

"Fine, fine," Kate was disappointed, and I struggled not to let out a sigh of relief. Aside from my NDA, it wasn't like I wanted to detail Christian's sex life, and I doubted I would survive an interrogation. "Just no hickeys in my sleeveless bridesmaid dress, and next time the plane gives you bruises, I hope it's a protected plane."

"Kate," Mia swatted her arm.

"Fine, fine, if it isn't a protected plane, at least give me a niece."

* * *

**SIX THOUSAND WORDS. Wow. Is it good or bad it's so long? Not sure.**

**What I am sure about is that I completed my **_**very first lemon**_**! *WOOHOO* I'm actually really excited to get some feedback on it. There will definitely be some more lemons in the future, so I want to keep getting better at it! Was it too hearts-and-flowers? **

**As always, follow/favorite/review, and make sure to check out my Twitter, HAWTgeekOfficial! I post sneak peaks on there! **


	20. Fifty Shades of Pemberley Abbey

_**Fifty Shades of Secrets**_

**Chapter 20: Fifty Shades of "Pemberley Abbey"**

* * *

**Anastasia Steele,**

"Anastasia…"

A familiar voice permeated dreams, and too deep in sleep to recognize it, I did the next best thing to tell it to shut up. I threw a nearby pillow and purposefully hugged mine closer. There was another noise. Maybe a chuckle? Or a really weird alarm?

Either way, I just wanted more sleep. The bed was too soft, too warm, and far too inviting for me to think about getting up. I'd been up until nearly three am with Christian, twisting my body into just about any position he could think of, and my muscles ached. I was thoroughly fucked into exhaustion and was more than happy to stay in Christian's king size bed for eternity.

With a click, the room felt like it was flooded with light, and I groaned, quickly trying to cover my eyes with the comforter. But something was holding it back. What the fuck? My dream was slipping out of reach, and my senses were slowly reverting to normal. I was waking up and sure as hell wasn't happy about it.

"Come on, we're going to be late." The voice. Again.

With sleep retreating, I blinked my eyes open and was momentarily blinded by the light. A small bedside lamp illuminated the room, but when accompanied by what had to be an ungodly early hour and blackout curtains, it felt as strong as the sun. Details of the room were slowly coming into focus, but I didn't keep my eyes open to see more. Firmly shutting my eyes, I started to tug at the comforter again.

"Ana," definitely a chuckle, and definitely Christian. Why was _he_ waking me up? Shouldn't he want to get some sleep? I felt soft lips press to my temple, then to my nose, then cheek… He was persistent, and I was vulnerable. An unwilling giggle escaped my lips, and I could practically feel his victorious smile. Giving in, my eyes slowly opened, and I pouted up at him. Of course, his grin was ear to ear. He'd won.

Dick.

"It's time to get up, gorgeous," Christian stroked my hair, trying to win back affection, and it was hard not to melt into him. He was so… _mine_. The effect was intoxicating. I'd been in love with him for years, yes, but we were never like this. We were never on an even playing field. Either I was angry and stupid, or he was stubborn and cold. And now, we were just together, being happy. The other stuff didn't matter anymore. Had I not been so tired, it would have been a Hallmark moment.

"No," I groaned, trying to shimmy back under the blankets since he wasn't letting me pull them up.

"You are definitely not a morning person," Christian kissed my lips gently, and this time, I did actually melt. With my arms circling around his neck carefully, I gazed up at him and did my best not to stare. He was, somehow, even sexier in the morning. How was this man human?

"I was having such a good dream," I whined, and Christian just smiled.

"What was it about?"

"Mmmm, you," I grinned, and this peaked his interest just as I'd hoped it would. His eyebrows perked up, silently urging me to go on, and I gave my best impression of post-wet dream, "It was amazing… We were in bed…" I sighed contently, "And we turned off the lights…"

I paused, waiting to see how antsy he became, and he impatiently implored, "And?"

"And you _let me sleep_," I was definitely proud of myself. Christian, who had seemed somewhat hot and bothered only a second ago, shook his head. He was trying his best to seem stern, but it failed miserably when a smile tugged on the corner of his lips. He was amused, and I knew it. Feeling like I got even for him waking me up, I relaxed back into the bed.

"Very funny, _Miss Steele_. Just for that, no morning sex," Christian added a peck to my nose before standing from the bed and turning on another light. This time I actually whined.

Hugging my pillow with a deliberate pout, I sat up slowly and had to take a second glance at Christian. He'd clearly been up for a good while before deciding to deprive me of my sleep. He was wearing a pair of crisp jeans, not like the ones he wore in the red room, and a black tee shirt that made you want to rip it off. He was reaching for a blazer, and I couldn't help but knit my eyebrows together. Was he going into the office or something?

"You're dressed," I said bluntly, awkwardly tugging the pillow over my naked body, and Christian smirked.

"Anastasia, I've seen you naked. A pillow doesn't change that," he teased, and I blushed, gently relaxing my grip on the pillow. I watched Christian disappear into the walk-in closet, and I glanced around the room, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes.

Like the rest of Escala, Christian's bedroom was lavishly minimalistic. Aside from the massive bed, the windows made up the majority of the room. Beyond the pale white curtains was a panorama of Seattle that was more than enough to compensate for the lack of furniture, and with the curtains still drawn, the bedroom was appealingly dark. If I didn't know Christian's persistence, I would gladly get some more rest. A modern armchair was perched in the corner, settled on a fluffy rug, and the small side table was adorned by a fresh cup of tea. Oh thank God!

"Are you going somewhere?" I called out to Christian, pulling my messy bedhead into a ponytail and forcing myself out of bed. I picked up my phone from the bedside table and blanched at the time. It was five fucking thirty in the morning. I groaned and flopped into the armchair, gladly reaching for the cup of weak English breakfast tea.

"No, _we_ are," Christian appeared from the closet with an armful of clothes, and he paused as he saw me on the chair. Remembering I was naked, I blushed and sat straight up. With a smirk, he added, "Now that's a view." He pressed a kiss to the top of my head, leaving clothes on the edge of the chair before dipping behind me to open the curtains. The sun was just starting to rise over the skyline, and even in my sleepy state, I had to admit it was beautiful.

"_We_?" I repeated, reaching for the clothes he'd set out. They were in my size and definitely expensive, undoubtedly part of his personal shopper's handiwork. As I held them up, I noticed they had tags dating back to before I left. He kept them…

I swallowed, clutching them closer to me._ My poor, sweet Fifty._

"We have an appointment this morning," Christian seemed so happy that it was infectious, "Teddy and Esmerelda have plans with my mother this morning."

"What kind of appointment requires getting up at five in the morning on a Saturday?" I complained, sliding into the black lace Christian laid out for me and making sure to add an extra sway to my hips when I caught his glare. Selfishly, I thought that getting him back in bed would let me catch some extra sleep, and if it didn't work, at least I got time in bed with Christian…

"No spoilers. Now get dressed," Christian kissed my temple before stepping away, undoubtedly sensing my diabolical plans as he left me alone in the room.

**Christian Grey,**

The six am drive to Bellevue was uneventful. On a Saturday morning, the traffic was weak, and the few sleepy drivers dotting the road were going towards the city center, not away from it. High-rises, hipsters, and morning joggers were replaced with manicured lawns, soccer moms, and jogging strollers. Growing up in Bellevue had been idyllic, though I never seemed to fit into suburbia. It was easier to hide in penthouses than a subdivision, but a toddler changed my viewpoint.

"Mmmm… where are we?" Anastasia's voice was full of sleep as she shifted in the passenger seat. She was the only person I'd ever met who fell asleep in a Maserati…Then again, I hadn't let her get to sleep until three am.

After three years of waiting and weeks of lusting, how could I have settled for five minutes of missionary and an early bedtime? It was impossible, especially when she was so eager to twist and contort and please…

Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, Anastasia sat up in the seat, and once she had fully evaluated her surroundings, her face went white. With a comically panicked expression, Ana diverted her eyes back to mine and swallowed as she cautiously probed, "We're not going to see your parents, are we?"

"No, Anastasia. Glad to know you are so fond of them," my voice was dry in an attempt at humor, and for a moment, I worried my sarcasm could be misinterpreted. Surely, she trusted me. I didn't want to start an argument this morning or… well, any morning. But, when I took my eyes off of the road to fully gauge her reaction, she was calm and even playfully sticking her tongue out at me. It was miraculous how sex had put her this at ease.

"Your mom saw my hickey! And Kate thinks I'm incapable of having sex with you without getting pregnant. She's practically planning a baby shower as we speak," Anastasia's arms crossed across her chest, and as if to prove her point, a bit of bruised skin was visible on the collar of her shirt when she flipped her hair over her shoulder.

"Ahh, yes. I do remember my mother asking what kind of unsafe jet was I running where her darling Ana could be bruised," I was only half-teasing. My mother was either completely innocent or just feigning it when she grilled me on the safety conditions of my jet. I'd been alerted that, if my plane was unsuitable, she would personally book the commercial flight for her grandson.

Ana narrowed her eyes at me as she tucked her hands under her thighs. Over the last twenty-four hours, I'd figured out it was her method of resisting the urge to touch me. It was the one rule she was willing to keep, and it left me with mixed emotions. Naturally, I was pleased and relieved that Anastasia understood my phobia, but knowing that she had to go to such lengths to avoid it was unsettling. How could I begin a relationship with the mother of my child when she couldn't touch me? Ana and Theodore were my light, but what if my darkness drowned them out? It was surely something my physiatrist would have a field day with…

I felt the increasing need to explain myself, explain my life, but once she knew I was a monster, could she ever look at me the same? Knowing that I was an abused child who spanked girls that looked like his crackhead mother was probably more than Ana could take. She'd be in her right mind to pick up Teddy and run for the hills, and I couldn't take losing either of them again.

"Oh, smirk, all you'd like, Mr. Grey. You're not the one who looks like someone left me in the middle of a golf course," Anastasia was so innocently content that a sense of dread was building in my chest. I was going to fuck up.

I always fucked it up. The only steady relationship I'd forged was a friendship with my former dom, which was hardly an idyllic model to follow. I'd say something insulting. I'd do something wrong. I'd lose her trust. I'd lose her….

My knuckles turned white as I gripped the steering wheel for dear life. I tried to distract myself as I took a sharp turn down _Pem Lane_. Curiosity grew in Anastasia's eyes as the car stopped alongside the six-foot gates. While I punched in the code, her eyes roamed the intricate design of the metal and the markings on the aged stones. Waiting for the gate to fully open, I watched her expression intently, hoping to gauge her reaction.

I should have asked her. I should have brought it up before now, included her on the conversation. Fuck. What if she's furious?

"What is it?" Ana finally asked, concern growing in her eyes, and I struggled to interpret it. Was she asking why I was nervous, or was she inquiring as to why she was sitting at a random pair of gates bright and early on a Saturday morning? Maybe she'd already figured it out. Maybe she was still working on it. Either way, I didn't know what to say.

"An idea," I murmured, easing the car through the entrance and calmly driving through the lane. Mature oaks lined the cobblestone drive, casting a comfortable shadow as we rode in silence. On either side, rolling hills housed idyllic wildflowers and shady trees while a salt breeze coated the landscape. It was so picturesque that I expected a talking bunny to jump on the hood of the car and welcome us.

As we approached the end of the drive, the house was finally in view. Modeled after a multitude of English estates, the home merged Tudor and Georgian influences. Warm, aged stone was draped in ivy, and each window had been lit against the sunrise. On either side of the home, pathways with dying flowers lead to the water and various points of the property, and marks were left along the landscape from the moving vans.

Land like this never came on the market, and when it did, it was snapped up by developers aiming to stack ten McMansions on the property for several million apiece. If you did secure an estate on the water this close to the city, the only reasons to abandon it were death or divorce, and for Mr. Pem, it was the later. I'd worked with Pem before and had been invited to two of the weddings he'd housed on the property. At the dissolution of his last marriage to a BBC-Addict, Pem retreated to his city townhouse and hired Miss Kelly to put this on the market on nine am sharp, and I was granted access before developers could arrive.

"Wow…" Anastasia swallowed, her eyes darting around as she soaked in every detail. Surely, that had to be a good sign.

Putting the car into park, I hesitated to fully turn off the engine, and with my hand still wrapped around the key, I nervously studied Anastasia. She was seemly silenced in awe, but none the less, I was anxious. This morning could decide if she would ever be willing to join me in Seattle, and the magnitude of that decision was weighing on me. Surely, if she decided she liked the property, it didn't mean I could expect her to move in by Monday morning, but if she decided that the commitment was too great for her or it was all together unacceptable, everything I wanted was shot to hell.

"Will you keep an open mind?" I asked and waited as Ana stared at me, her eyebrows knit together in a way that made me want to kiss the space between them.

_What the fuck, Grey? Have you been watching Hallmark?_

"Christian, I've needed an open mind since the day I met you," a small smile darted across Ana's lips, and I sighed with relief, kissing the crown of her head before nodding.

"Fair point, Miss Steele," I finally turned off the car, and before I could close the car door behind Anastasia, the oversized, wrought iron doors opened dramatically to reveal Miss. Olga Kelly.

Her newly platinum hair was secured in a complicated up-do, and in spite of already being five eleven, she was wearing a pair of heels that made us almost eye-to-eye. Her yellow pantsuit seemed to match the sunrise behind her, and a coffee-induced smile was plastered on her lips. She was the only agent I'd ever worked with that maintained a perpetual smile, and I questioned if she'd surgically ensured it.

"Mr. Grey," Olga, as usual, was eager to shake my hand, and she'd briefly shown a flush of disappointment when she noticed Anastasia by my side. Noting it, Ana promptly leaned into me as if stating her claim and politely accepted the hand shake. That's my girl…

"Olga Kelly, so lovely to meet you," Olga widened her smile a bit, and after Ana introduced herself, we were whisked into the foyer where Olga happily motioned around, "Welcome to Pemberley Abbey."

Ana raised her eyebrow and repeated, "_Pemberley Abbey_?"

"Yes," Olga didn't bat an eye as she explained, "The first Mrs. Pem thought it was a good play on words and had the home modeled after the 1995's Pride and Prejudice adaption's Pemberley, and the second Mrs. Pem had a thing for Dowton Abbey and added a bit of Jacobethan and Tudor to the home." I didn't doubt that this was a rehearsed speech to explain the more ridiculous elements of the house. It surely needed it. I'd been in it briefly after the first remodel but knew that, when the marriage deteriorated, it only became more outrageous.

"Oh," Anastasia smiled softly, trying to suppress a laugh, and hoping to change the subject, Olga winked and opened the doors on either side of the cramped foyer.

Each side housed various small rooms leading into one another, full of fireplaces and odd light fixtures. Scuffs on the wall replaced grandiose paintings, and the dull hardwood was scratched from careless moving. The lawyers had decreed that the house would be sold and the profits split, so it had been priced to sell, meaning to hell with staging and updating. I didn't doubt it'd be gone by tonight, which is why I'd convinced Olga to keep it off the market until I could visit with Anastasia. Even then, I only had a few hours to make a decision.

"I'll let you two explore. I'll be in the kitchen," Miss Kelly was already fishing her blackberry out of her bag, and Ana could hardly get a thank you out before she had disappeared down a hallway.

Ana looked back at me, "It's empty…We're not visiting anyone, are we?"

With a small smile, I took her hand, "Come."

I lead her through another door that took us to an awkwardly placed mudroom before reaching the French doors to the larger living room. As the only room that escaped Mrs. Pem's anti-open-concept renovation, it had enough room to breathe in spite of the dominating stone staircase on the edge. A salty breeze came flooding in through the opened windows, and picking one of the many French doors leading to the terrace, I brought Anastasia to the reason we were really here.

The view was breathtaking. The sun was against the sound, coating it in warm yellows and oranges, and the uninterrupted vista allowed you to see Bainbridge Island and even further beyond Olympic National Park. The birds whistled in the trees while the occasional sailboat would dot the solid blue.

But in spite of the beauty, I find myself staring at Anastasia. She was practically holding her breath as she leaned further into it, entranced by it all. Anastasia fit the view. It seemed as if the grass became greener, the water clearer, and the sky warmer when she was around. I wanted to see her next to this view every morning… Finally, she reluctantly turned back to me, and I waited for what felt like an eternity for her to speak.

"You brought me here for the view?" she questioned, her voice hardly a whisper, and I nodded slowly. Turning back towards it, a small smile crept on her lips, "It's… staggering, Christian. Thank you."

"How would you like to look at it for the rest of your life?" I released her hand, and her head whipped back to me. Had I not been terrified she was preparing to bolt, I might have found it funny. "Or at least weekends," I corrected, and she just stared at me. I felt the need to fill the silence and continued, "I've always wanted to live on the coast. I sail up and down the Sound coveting these houses. Places like this sell quickly, but I knew _Pemberly_ himself," I smirked lightly, "I want to buy it from him before a developer gets his hands on it. I want to tear it down and build something new-a new house for Theodore, for… us."

She was still staring. This is torture.

"It's just an idea," I clarified.

Her eyes finally tore from mine to appraise the house standing behind her, and she catousily asked, "Why do you want to demolish it?"

My smile fades slightly as I feel my plan slipping away. That wasn't a yes. "I'd like to make a more sustainable home. Elliott specializes in the latest ecological techniques."

Ana looked back at the house, tilting her head as she asked, "Can we look around?"

_Why would she want to do that?_

"Sure," I shrugged. There was no harm, after all. It didn't even go on the market for a few hours. We had time, yet I hated the idea of stalling.

I don't doubt that Miss Kelly was listening in because, by the time we got back in the house, she was already prepared to begin a tour. Her speech was clearly rehearsed. She rattled off the square footage, the acreage, gave vague directions to the media room and game room, and even suggested renovations as we moved through the space. Anastasia was politely listening, and I studied her moves.

Olga pushed to establish _Pemberley Abbey _as a model family home in spite of the lack of sightlines, fireplaces that Teddy could practically crawl in, and creepy murals of giant bunnies in the playroom. I tune out at the mention of a pony for any future little princesses. It isn't until we reach the master bedroom that she finally decides to slip away.

I haven't heard Ana say a thing, and I can tell she's actively avoiding it. Her fingers traced along some God awful yellow wallpaper covered in little green sheep, and it wasn't until her head peaked into the bathroom that she finally released the laughter she'd bottled up. I follow her and lose all respect for Stephen Pem.

A large, intricate mural of Collin Firth as Mr. Darcy was iset in tile above the hot pink clawfoot tub. I wouldn't have been surprised if the shower head was Collin Firth's profile. Next, Lady Mary Crawley would be painted in the closet.

Fuck this. I wasn't going to wait with bated breath forever. I tugged her closer, my index finger tipping her chin up so that she was looking up at me.

"Lot to take in?" I asked quietly.

"A bit… I didn't realize you were house hunting," she nodded, still staring up at me. Her quietness was deafening. She'd been so playful, so talkative. Now she was barely speaking. I needed her to say something, anything. Even if she was furious that I was forcing this on her.

"What do you think?"

"I love the view… I even like the house here," she admitted.

"You like bathing in front of Collin Firth?"

She laughed, leaning into me with a grin, "Yes, in fact, I have always dreamed of stripping down to Collin Firth. You haven't?"

_She's laughing. _A weight was lifted off my chest, and I pulled her closer, pressing a kiss to her lips. She's okay. We're okay. And this is how we proved it. I picked her up and placed her on the edge of the pale yellow cabinets, needing more confirmation. After all, sex in our future house before we even bought it was something to add to the list…

"Mmm, Olga's probably right around the corner," Ana mumbled into my lips, but she hardly pulled away. In the back of my mind, I knew she was right, and I knew Olga would eagerly spread the word that the media was correct in their last report that I was, surprisingly, heterosexual.

"Her commission is the large enough to deal with it," I smirked, tangling my thumbs in Anastasia's belt loops to pull her closer. Her skin was so warm against mine and her silk blouse so easy to take off. I pressed my lips to a hickey I'd left on her shoulder and whispered against her skin, "Besides there are so many damn walls."

"You can tear down the _damn walls_, Mr. Grey," she teased, "But next time, make the Collin Firth mural naked."

I pressed my forehead against her collarbone, laughing as I murmured, "God damn, Miss Steele. You might be kinkier than me."

"Oh yeah, tile is my fetish. You should see me in the tile store," she whispered in my ear, "You know the old saying, _Home Depot _makes the panties drop."

"So that's why you worked at Clayton's," I winked, pressing a kiss to her nose before reluctantly stepping away. I offered my hand to help Anastasia step off of the cabinets, and she leaned into me as we stepped back into the master bedroom, "Are you sure you want to keep a house with this level of wallpaper? I'm pretty sure it could be cursed."

"You don't believe in _ju-ju_, Mr. Grey, do you?" Anastasia traced the design on one of the sheep, "I could say a lot about Escala…."

And there it was. This was a sign that I should shed my worries and tell her everything about the sick son of a bitch she was standing next to, but I couldn't find the nerve. I remembered now why I'd let her run away. She wasn't mine to taint. While I might have taken her sexual innocence, I hadn't taken her naïve view of me. She saw me as a sick man, yes, but probably one that could be cured. Maybe she thought I had already been cured by the power of fatherly love or something from a romance novel.

But I was "the incurable." I was the vampire who killed, not the one with sparkly abs. I'd been through the treatment to no avail. The darkness always came back, but Anastasia was the light. I couldn't dim her flame with my bullshit.

So, I didn't tell her.

I just smiled.

"Let's go find Olga before somebody buys this Collin-Firth masterpiece," I winked.

* * *

**I know this is fluff, but it is a really fun chapter. They bought a house, and it added some great humor! The relationship is growing between Christian and Ana, but unsurprisingly, Christian is pretty scared about where it could go. I think that's pretty true to his character, and I want to remind everyone that these characters perfectly aren't perfect. Even in the books, it took them a while to really communicate and connect. ****Also, any _Dowton Abbey_ and _Pride and Prejuidice_ fans out there? :D**

**As always, please review, follow, and favorite!**

PS. I apologize for any grammatical errors. I was a bit sleepy when I proofread but wanted to make sure that this chapter was out on time!


	21. Fifty Shades of Girl's Day

_**Fifty Shades of Secrets**_

**Chapter 21: Fifty Shades of "Girl's Day"**

* * *

**Anastasia Steele,**

My smartphone was the only remaining tether to the real world, and when I finally took it out of my bag Saturday afternoon, it was sobering. Christian's contact in my phone was still new, but I was sitting in his bed in Escala as if it was where I'd always been. A contract had been drawn up for _Pemberley Abbey_ but there was still a contract for our custody agreement sitting on Christian's desk. I was expected at work on Monday morning, eight am sharp for a meeting with Scarlett, but returning to New York City was the furthest thing on my mind.

What was real?

Seattle or New York? This weekend or the last three years? A fledgling of a relationship or my long-held prejudice against Mr. Grey?

This realization was odd mainly because it didn't frighten me. I was content not fully understanding it or stamping a label on everything. My urge to run was subdued, and I didn't have to overthink all of our conversations. Maybe he wasn't so hard to figure out if I stopped trying…

_Okay, that's bullshit._ I brushed off the thought and returned to the email I'd been pouring over since it arrived in my inbox thirty minutes ago.

**….**

** To: Anastasia Steele**

** From: Angela King**

** Miss Steele,**

** Congratulations! Your apartment in the village has an offer, and the seller is willing to take possession within the month. I've attached the details, but I think it is a solid offer. I'd love to meet with you on Monday morning to discuss and fill out paperwork. **

** Best regards,**

** Angela King, King Realty**

** ….**

It felt like a proper ending. When I'd purchased my apartment, it was my first sign of independence. After living with my mom in Savannah, a family friend in Atlanta, and renting a tiny apartment with an hour's commute when I first moved to New York, it had been an amazing moment when I picked up the keys and opened my own front door for the first time.

Every inch of that small apartment was covered in memories. My son learned to walk on the pre-war floors. I'd gotten the best job offer of my life sitting in that living room. I assembled a dining table for the first time in my life and only sustained minor injuries, and I ended many uncomfortable first dates with the help of my doorman. The idea of getting rid of it was heartbreaking, yet it felt… inevitable.

This was the next step. I didn't need an apartment to prove I was independent, nor did I need even _need _to prove anything. So much of my time had been spent worrying about other people's opinions. I knew Scarlett and Kate would kill me if they found out I sold my apartment and considered moving back to Seattle. It was a sign of "weakness."

But what did it matter if I was weak? I've always been weak. I feign strength at the sign of trouble, and this was the first time I wasn't running away from something. No, I was running _into_ it. This relationship-as odd as it may be- was worth a chance. Furthermore, it was something I desperately wanted. This mattered. Kate's opinion, not so much.

"Back to bed already?" Christian's voice made me jump, and when I looked up, of course he looked fucking beautiful. It didn't matter that he barely got any sleep or that he'd chased Theodore around the park we met Grace at. He was never unattractive. There were no dip-fell-on-my-shirt, I-haven't-slept-in-a-week, shut-the-fuck-up days.

"You never let me sleep," I laughed softly, playfully pouting as he crossed the room. His hand rested on my thigh as he leaned in to kiss my forehead, and my breath caught as his hand slowly moved up my thigh to my hip as he whispered in my ear.

"Would you have rather slept, Miss Steele?" Goosebumps dotted my skin as his hot breath tickled my ear.

"No," I squeaked, and Christian's laugh was so warm and deep that a broad grin spread across my lips. I tugged on the edge of his belt, and he easily complied, sitting next to me on the bed. I settled against him and relaxed as his fingers tangled in my hair.

Christian motioned towards my open laptop, kissing my nose as he asked, "Porn?"

Trying to keep a straight face I replied, "Gave up. Couldn't find anything kinky enough."

"A good anal fisting is hard to find these days," he whispered, and my eyes nearly bugged out of my head. He wasn't actually into that…. Was he?

"You'd know?" I swallowed. No matter how hard I tried to keep an even voice, I practically sounded like Mickey Mouse. Surely, he wouldn't expect that. Some of the kinks were okay-good even. But _that_… my face paled.

"Don't worry, Anastasia. I was teasing," Christian stifled a laugh, "No one is doing that to you… Unless there's something I need to know."

"Okay," I murmured, caught on the idea of going beyond vanilla. I still had my hard limits, though defining them was still a bit out of my reach. Even with the help of UrbanDictionary, I knew so little that I doubted I could really wrap my head around the many uses of the Red Room. While Christian may have changed, I wasn't entirely sure I had. I'd grown up, yes. I took care of myself and a child, but beyond that, I was as naïve as ever.

"So, if not watching porn, work?" Christian questioned.

"No… Avoiding it right now. I'll catch up on the plane," I bit my lower lip, feeling strange about bringing up New York. It felt like a topic that, at least for today, didn't exist, but I knew it did. Ignoring it was unrealistic and ridiculous, but that didn't make it any less awkward as I explained, "An offer on my apartment. I was about to look at it."

Immediately, his interest peaked, and I knew he probably saw this as a stepping stone to me moving to Seattle. And was it? Shit, I didn't know.

"I didn't know you put it on the market," Christian was naturally pleased, "Village, right? Sells fast. That's exciting."

"I didn't think it'd sell _that fast_. They just started showing it," I was complaining. Why was I complaining?

"You can always keep it," Christian suggested, reading into my tone, and I shook my head. No, I didn't need to keep it. It was absurd to hold on to an apartment just because I'd cared about it when I bought it. I wasn't exactly moving back in any time soon.

"No… It's just weird. Makes it all a bit more real," I admitted, shrugging again.

"What more real?" Christian questioned, wanting some sort of embarrassing declaration, but instead, I just smirked.

"That I drunk-dialed my ex on vacation."

Christian avoided laughing at first by clamping his mouth shut, but caving into it, his forehead fell against the side of my head as he chuckled. I loved making him laugh and was still amazed I could do it. By all accounts, I was remarkably un-funny, and Christian was rumored to have been born without a sense of humor (though these rumors also went hand-in-hand with his asexuality).

"Sarcastic little thing, aren't you?" Christian's lips pressed to my forehead.

"Maybe," I bit my lower lip and watched as his eyebrow raised.

With his eyes trained on my lip, his finger traced it, pulling it free from my teeth. "I like your lips far too much for you to abuse them," he smirked as he leaned in for a deep kiss, and pulling away from me just enough to speak, he added, "That's _my_ job."

Chuckling into his kiss, I wrapped my arms around his neck in an attempt to keep him there, and I grinned into his lips when it worked. There was something about being close to Christian that escalated my need for him. A kiss was never a kiss. I wanted _more_. Effortlessly and smoothly moving over me, his hand wandered from my chin. His gentle touched raised goosebumps all the way from my neck to my hip, where it finally rested. Firmly grabbing my hips, he pressed me further into the mattress, making me moan softly into his lips.

It was when he started to unbutton the top of my shirt that my mind completely blanked. I was focused solely on getting the rest of it off (and other clothing, too…). Which is probably why I missed the high heels down the hall, the humming at the doorway, and the knock on the door.

"Anastasia? Christian?"

Oh fuck.

Pulling away as quickly as I could, my eyes shot to the bedroom door where my fears were confirmed.

Perched in the middle of the doorway was Grace Trevelyan Grey, M.D. herself. Even when she was on call and dressed in lazy Saturday attire, she was as elegant as ever. A woman who could wear a white pantsuit even with the threat of being called into the hospital was a woman not to be messed with, and she'd just caught me making out with her son. I felt like a teenager as I awkwardly tried to pull my shirt down, but in my rush, I made matters worse by pulling too far and allowing black lace to peak over the top. Shit.

"Hello, mother," Christian was… _amused_. I was surprised- and even jealous- that he lacked my mortification.

"I hope you don't mind me stealing Anastasia. Mia has planned out our afternoon," Grace smiled at her son as I scrambled to sit up.

Afternoon with Mia. Right.

Thanks to the excitement of this morning, I'd forgotten the plans I'd made before I even gotten to Seattle. While I was still fighting with Christian, Mia took the opportunity to plan my Saturday. To avoid the sunrise yoga and mid-day spinning class she'd wanted, I'd offered this afternoon to hopefully bond with my son's aunt. Had I known that it would mess up my sexy weekend with Christian, I'd have been far more tentative, and if I'd been smart last night, I'd have faked some minor cold that required my ass in bed.

Offering an apologetic smile, I said, "Right, it'll be really fun."

Grace's smile was far more genuine, though I couldn't tell if it spawned from amusement or good nature. "I'll give you a few minutes to freshen up. Love you, Darling," Grace disappeared down the hall after blowing a kiss at her middle child, and I sat on the bed in horror.

Christian was suppressing a grin. Shithead.

I shot him a glare to prove it, and he only smiled wider. He was enjoying this far too much as he moved closer to me. The new proximity was just close enough to drive me crazy but not enough to satisfy. Resting his hand on my inner thigh, he whispered, "Too bad, that shirt would have looked far better on the floor."

His wink made my knees worse, and before I could declare intentions to blow off his family in favor of new-couple sex, he took the decision away from me. After standing and giving me the tiniest kiss on my forehead, he _also _disappeared down the hall.

Accepting my fate, I begrudgingly got out of bed and did my best to "freshen up." Opting for the innocent pieces in the closet, I hurriedly got dressed and swiped a layer of concealer to hide my _we-fucked-all-night dark_ circles. The entire time, I debated how to approach alone time with Grace.

Grace was an amazing, lovely person that I loved spending time with, yet spending time with her felt like a landmine. The wound was undoubtedly fresh after all I'd done. Yes, I'd provided her with her first grandchild, but I was also the bitch from hell who kept him from her. I'd lied to her directly in Puerto Rico, and even if she was the wiser last night, I'd lied to her again about the hickeys. Our track record was flawed, but through I wanted to change that, rocking the boat was less than favorable. I didn't want to remind her of my sins.

Even in my teenager-mentality, I knew it wasn't actually a big deal she'd seen me kiss her son. He was thirty, for fuck's sake, and he was clearly not as celibate as she imagined since he had a toddler running around. But it did mean that she knew about our attempt at a relationship, and the questions she might ask and the expectations she'd hold are terrifying. What if we weren't a success? What if this didn't end in the fall wedding and ten kids like Mia hoped it would? What if we were doomed to crash in flames within the next six months?

"Grandma!" Theodore's giggle echoed through Escala, and my heart melted. I could do this. I could totally do this…

"Oh, Anastasia," Grace smiled warmly at me, standing with ease despite the toddler on her hip. Theodore's chubby cheeks were covered in pale pink lipstick, and he was so excited. How Grace turned a cranky pre-nap toddler into an angel, I didn't know. But it was endearing and fairly impressive. Brushing her fingers through his unruly curls, Grace asked, "Doesn't Mommy look beautiful?"

"Boot-iful," Theodore giggled, and I rustled his hair, pressing a quick kiss to his forehead.

"You're going to stay with Daddy while Grandma and I go out for a little bit. You and Daddy will have so much fun!" I took his hand in mine, squeezing with enthusiasm, but he hardly needed my encouragement. He adored Daddy. Like most toddlers, Theodore still saw his parents as heroes instead of mild inconveniences, and Daddy, in particular, was "Hero Daddy."

And when Hero Daddy himself started to come downstairs, Theodore's eyes lit up, and Grace looked like she could have cried from joy as her son held out his arms to hold _his_ son. With Theodore secure in his strong, firm grasp, Christian smiled wide at his son, and then _I _almost cried from joy.

"So much fun," Christian repeated, "But… only after nap time."

Theodore pouted, "No nap!"

"Yes nap," Christian shook his head, carrying the toddler to his room upstairs, and the entire way up, I could hear their debate.

Grace and I were silent as we walked to the elevator, both still thinking about how adorable the boys upstairs were. It wasn't until we were reaching for different elevator buttons that we had to say something. I was grasping for the parking garage while Grace was pressing the ground level.

"We can walk," Grace explained with a playful smile, maintaining the secret.

"Where are we walking?" I asked, hoping she'd give in.

"Mia would kill me if I told," Grace gave me an apologetic smile as the doors opened, "You'll have fun, I promise, Ana."

The city was reprieved from the rain for now, but the ground was still wet and proved a challenge for my balance in low wedges. Effortlessly, Grace navigated Seattle's downtown while I struggled to remember a landmark. All of the trendy restaurants and bars had been replaced with even trendier spots, and as I passed hipsters in the street, I realized how _uncool_ I was.

The more we were silent, the more I felt the need to fill it but lacked the words. Finally, I settled on talking about our biggest common interest, Teddy.

"How was Teddy this morning?" I asked, happily filling the conversation void, and Grace beamed as she turned towards me.

"Oh, he was lovely," Grace tucked a lock of sandy blonde hair behind her ear, "You know, none of my kids were ever as well behaved as little Teddy. Elliott was a terror. When he hit his _terrible twos_, he stripped down in the middle of church. I was terrified he was going to pee on the organ."

"Really?" I laughed in surprise. Elliott definitely had the appearance of a former wild child, but I'd have never thought he went that far.

"Wait for the teen years, Sweetie. Even Mia had a bit of a rebellious stage," Grace nudged me, "Luckily, that consisted only of a boyfriend with a motorcycle and an unfortunate pixie cut."

"Well, I didn't have much of one," I admitted, "My big rebellion was moving in with my dad in Washington. So, hopefully, Teddy takes after me." I was tempted to enquire about the one child she'd yet to bring up. I was sure that she was purposefully avoiding discussing Christian, and I wasn't entirely sure why. Was it purely in hopes of not bringing up me making out with her son, or was there something they just didn't talk about?

I didn't know much about Christian's childhood. I knew about his teenage years and the bitch of Mrs. Robinson, but his childhood was a mystery. And I feared it was a dark one at that… Maybe that's why I didn't press. If it was as bad as it seemed, Christian should be the one to tell me, or perhaps I was best left uninformed.

Grace stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, and I nearly tripped over myself in surprise. Struggling to keep my balance on the damp sidewalk, I leaned on a nearby street light for help. Grace was so deep in thought that she barely noticed, or she was far too polite to comment. Considering the events of the last twenty-four hours, I was beginning to think she was _always_ too polite to comment.

"We haven't talked much, have we?" Grace began, squeezing my hands in a motherly gesture, "I know I must seem like an emotional old woman, but I've wanted to say this for a long time. Basically from the moment I've been Theodore."

Shit. No. I didn't want to have a big blow out in the middle of Seattle.

"It's alright," I tried, terrified I was walking into a bursting damn. She'd held in so much about my wrongdoings. She didn't call me out like Carrick when I arrived. She didn't show her disbelief of my airplane bruise story. She didn't even say anything when she saw her son in bed with his estranged baby mama. She was bound to explode at me, but that didn't mean I wanted to take it.

"No, it isn't," Grace shook her head, "I'm aware this is not the best of situations, and initially, we were not very welcoming. But… I have spent twenty-six years worrying about Christian. As a child, he went through so much, and though he's a success and has made such progress," Grace paused, struggling for words, "I didn't think he'd find this, and I know your relationship was not the best. I understand why you left, but thank you so much. Teddy has changed Christian. You changed Christian."

Oh.

I stood, shocked to silence.

She was… thanking me.

When she had something to get off of her chest, it was _gratitude, _not hatred.

"Grace…" I didn't know what to say. This had to be profound. This had to be relationship-altering. Yet, I couldn't come up with much of anything. "I'm sorry I kept him from you. I didn't really apologize, and I don't have a good explanation either. It wasn't fair to anyone, and I'd do anything to make it up to you."

Grace… _laughed_. What?

"Oh, Ana, clean slate, I promise," Grace squeezed my hand again and gave me one of the largest, mother-bear hugs I'd ever received, "I'm going to make us late. Mia is so excited about today. But I really do want to get to know you. You're everything I could have ever hoped Christian would find, and next time you're in Seattle, we can do something together. Unless… of course, you and Christian may be busy."

The way she said _busy_ made me flush and cringe simultaneously. I wasn't escaping the make-out session as I'd hoped. Relieved that walking now silenced us, I gave her an embarrassed smile in lieu of a response, which made Grace chuckle.

"You young people and _labels_. Whatever it is, I hope it works out. I'm not nearly as blind as my children may think," Grace added a wink before stopping at our destination. I was so mortified at this revelation that I paid no attention to the trendy building or even the door handle shaped like a paddle brush and scissors.

So, I was surprised when I found myself stepping into a salon. The docile receptionist didn't get a chance to say a word before Mia practically leapt off of a plush chair and bounded towards us. The next thing I knew, I was enveloped in a tight hug and cheerful chatter.

"Ana!" Mia's smile was so bright and warm as she pulled away, "Surprise! I hope this is alright. I thought a spa day would be so much fun! Hair, nails, and facials if you're up for it. Just a girl's day," Mia giggled, squeezing my arm with such excitement that I worried my smile wasn't wide enough in return.

"Yeah, it will be a lot of fun," I smiled softly, relieved that this wasn't an overzealous workout class or endless wedding preparations. Surely, I could handle a trim and a layer nail polish even if it did mean getting this shirt off was further postponed.

While Mia started to explain the wedding-approved haircut she aimed for, Grace had disappeared into the sea of chic people with even more chic hair. In spite of the open space, the salon boasted only a select number of chairs and surely an outrageous waiting list to match. Everything was crème, black, or marble and remarkably spotless. I felt out of place, wishing I'd replaced my practical wedges with ridiculous stilettos even if I broke my ankle in the process.

Just as the fear of trendy trims and damaging dye jobs was starting to hit, Grace reappeared with a woman on her arm. Both giggling, Grace happily waved towards us, and Mia broke out into a grin.

"Aunt Elena!"

_Aunt Elena_?

The name felt familiar.

"Ana, this is my good friend, Elena Lincoln. She is one of our neighbors and closest friends. She was practically a second mother to these kids, especially Christian," Grace squeezed her friends shoulder, and my stomach dropped. "You know, she even gave Christian his first job. He worked in your yard, right?" Grace clarified, and I, too, turned my attention to the tall blonde.

She was one of the most beautiful women I'd ever seen. Elena was the kind who made flawless blowouts, a perfect figure, and six inch heels look effortless. In one hair flip, she possessed more charisma and poise than I had in my entire body, and her confidence was overwhelming. Surely, this couldn't be….

"Yes, he did. Such a hard worker. I knew he'd be a success," Elena agreed.

Oh shit.

This is Mrs. Robinson.

"Oh, it's so great to meet you," Elena outstretched a hand, though it was surprising she could even lift her thin fingers with such a large diamond perched in the middle. When I'd pictured her, I'd created an entirely different image. In my imagination, she was a wicked divorcee with multiple attempts at maintaining youth through plastic surgery. Even when Mia had described her as a loving aunt, I'd expected a wolf in sheep's clothing (or rather, sheep's latex). She'd been such a vindictive character in my narrative, but she seemed so… lovely. So beautiful. So normal, even.

"Nice to meet you," I murmured, feeling shell-shocked. After thinking of the dreaded Mrs. Robinson for so long, I was disappointed in our meeting. I thought it'd begin with passive aggressive comments and escalate with me calling out how she'd hurt Christian before ending in a dramatic exit.

This was anticlimactic.

"Girls, I'll let you two get to work on your color, but definitely some mimosa's before you leave," Elena winked at Grace and Mia with such charming ease that neither of them thought a thing about going. They had no idea they were leaving me with the fabled villain my inner hero had been preparing to battle since learning of her.

"Come on, Anabelle. Let's get you a chair," Elena motioned for me to follow her and took off at an impressive rate in those shoes.

"It's Anastasia," I corrected.

"Right, Clairasia."

"_Anastasia_," I repeated with more force as I took the seat she pointed to.

"That's what I said," Elena shrugged, digging her fingers into my hair, and I let out an involuntary whine as her fake nails got caught in the root. All the while, she just made a disapproving expression.

"Don't worry, Sweetie. We can work miracles here. Even on your dull color," Elena dropped my hair on the top of my head, and I felt a chill run down my spine as I caught her gaze in the mirror. Locking in on me, she grinned, "We really don't need to act, you know. I'm quite sure he's told you much about me, and I know much about you."

I could feel the anger prickling up in my chest, threatening to pour out, but I held onto it as best I could. Even though I thought the woman was despicable and sick, I didn't want an enemy, particularly one so close to his family-and to Christian himself.

"It'd be nice if we could be friends," I suggested timidly, and Elena stared at me with an impassive expression that made chills run down my spine.

"Oh, look at you, so cute," Elena squeezed my cheeks as if I was a child, leaving red marks as she pulled away, "It's almost like a little girl playing house, you know?"

"Excuse me?" my spine straightened, a blush creeping up on my cheeks.

"You're acting so important. It's rather comical," Elena placed a hand on my shoulder for reassurance, but I squirmed as her nails dug into my shoulder, "Like a little peace maker, but the peace you should be making is with yourself, not me."

"I need to make peace with myself?" I repeated incredulously, the fury continuing to mount.

"Well, maybe a reality check is more fitting," Elena's smile was so cool that, if I hadn't heard her, I would have thought she was paying a complement, and surely that was Grace thought as she watched us out of ear's reach. "It has to be hard. You think you're so special when you're not. I mean, you see yourself as the mother of his child, the one he had a family with when really," Elena shrugged, "you were just too incompetent to finish your pack of birth control."

Oh my God.

My jaw dropped in horror. How dare she!

"It must be hard for you, too," I gave her the bitchiest version of a supporting smile I could muster, "You have such an ego. Honestly, I don't know _anything_ about you. Pedophiles are hardly what I'd consider pillow talk."

Elena's nails dug into the leather on either side of my shoulders, "Such a big word for such a meek little thing. Don't make me ask you to apologize."

"Like you made a _fifteen _year old apologize," my voice was dripped in disgust, "Perhaps you're more comfortable with statutory rape. Or Grace could be the tie breaker on which term is best. Thirteen years until you come after my son, right?"

"You think he loves you, don't you?" she chuckled, "Oh, _Anastasia_. You don't even know him. You only know his dick, and even at that, you're substandard. Do you really think he enjoys it? Think he wants to spend the rest of his life with missionary sex after putting the kids to bed?"

I was determined not to let her under my skin, but she struck a nerve. Of course, he was happy… Wasn't he?

"Christian is infatuated now, but not with you. Surely, you can understand that, as the first girl to say no to him, there is this sort of bounty over your head. He has to prove himself to you. Maybe that'll leave you happy for a few years, even pop out another kid or two. But it will never last. His interest will fade. His eyes will wander. And when the red room is opened again, do you think you'll be the one inside?" her expression was one of pity as she motioned towards her receptionist, "Look at Nina. That's what he'll want. A sub, and you will _never _be that. You can never understand our lifestyle."

I could have killer her. I _wanted_ to kill her. How could she say that? Every snide comment, every cruel insult, and every instinct to pull out her flawless hair gnawed inside of me, begging to be unleashed. I could give her hell, and she deserved every bit of it.

"It's always sad, isn't it? Seeing an older woman so desperate for a man who's fucking someone much, much younger," I raised an eyebrow, leveling with her, "Christian is your man who got away, but right now, he's a bit busy," I tugged a bit at my neckline, exposing one of the many marks he'd left, "Now get your plastic nails and spray tan as far away as possible before my Mother's Intuition pushes me to tell Grace _everything, Mrs. Robinson_."

"I'd have never imagined you a worthy adversary, Miss Steele. You should have stayed in Atlanta. Or Savannah. Or your daddy's house," she smirked in my ear, and my face paled, "Someone had to tell him to not go looking for you. Don't underestimate me."

She knew. She knew about me and Theodore. She'd kept him from looking. I'd spent all those years thinking he didn't care or that he knew and wanted to make no effort for us, and she'd fucking known. That bitch.

"Hey, girls!"

I nearly jumped out of my chair when I'd heard Grace's voice behind us. Her hair was covered in foils, and her crème clothing was covered by a black cape. And somehow, even then, she looked wonderful, and I envied her blissful, naïve smile

"Going well?" she asked, clearly excited.

"_Swimmingly_."

* * *

**OKAY THEN. A LOT JUST HAPPENED. Take the necessary deep breath. You've earned it.**

**This chapter took a while to create. I'd wrestled with a scene that I loved but just didn't fit, so I ended up saving it and starting from scratch. I didn't intend for the fight between Ana and Elena to be so upfront (or that it'd all be in one POV). I'd planned on it being vague hostility, but it morphed into this. I really wanted Ana to be calm yet strong, and I hope that came across. What do you guys think? Was it too much or not enough? Also, I like sarcastic Anastasia and their more comfortable relationship, but is it too off character?**

**I really wanted to get this out there, so I am proofreading half-asleep. If you see any glaring issues, please let me know, and I'll try to fix them. **

**There are a lot of twists and turns ahead, so keep reading! **

**As always, review, favorite, and follow!**

**-HAWTgeek**


	22. Fifty Shades of Lipstick

**Fifty Shades of Secrets**

**Chapter Twenty-Two: Fifty Shades of Lipstick**

* * *

**Anastasia Steele,**

"No," Teddy crossed his arms across his chest, glaring up at me from the bathtub. It was his final stance against what he considered to be the root of all evil, _shampoo_. His battles changed periodically. A month ago, the idea of bath time was intolerable, but once he was introduced to more floating toys, his position drastically changed. But last week, his bouncy curls developed a knot I had to remove while shampooing his hair, and since then, contact with shampoo was avoided at all costs.

"Yes, Teddy. If we don't wash your hair, you won't be squeaky clean," I shrugged as if this was an irrefutable fact, "Especially since I see finger paint in your hair, young man."

"You're not washing _your hair_," Teddy complained, and I nearly grimaced.

My hair was not something I wanted to think about, let alone discuss with my toddler.

After meeting the bitch from hell formerly known as Mrs. Robinson, I would have gladly taken a buzz cut just to get out of that damn salon, but then again, I'd also have loved to stab her with the scissors. And I wasn't entirely sure that I wouldn't have if she hadn't had "urgent matters" to attend to with a supplier. My hairstylist, Giorgio, was fabulously gay and talented with his hairdryer, but that didn't cure the painful pit growing in my stomach.

The more time passed, the angrier I grew. How could Elena get away with all of this? Did her flawless locks and confidence spare her from her crimes? She was cruel and vindictive and, even all of these years later, _still_ hurting Christian. Her damage was never complete. Her possession over him never ceased, and her claim on him was so strong that anything and everything was on the table to maintain it.

Including get rid of his family.

I was infuriated by how easily she had knocked me down. I'd been so naïve to think that Christian was right when he described their relationship as one with common interests and mutual friends. I really thought that, to keep the peace, I was willing to pretend bygones were bygones. But with just a few words, I felt like that twenty-one-year-old who knew nothing about the man she was in love with. Everything I knew-or thought I knew- felt like a lie. My head was swimming as I wondered if I was kidding myself, if I was just a girl who didn't understand birth control. She made my life so insignificant. She made my son an unfortunate mistake when he was really the best thing that ever happened to me.

I couldn't imagine what she did to Christian on a regular basis. The mind washing he'd endured for fifteen years surely made mine over ten minutes seem like nothing. And that brought me to my biggest grievance.

How could he possibly be _friends with her_?!

I felt the need to scream from the rooftops, to tell Grace about the monster in disguise living next door, to show everyone the truth. But this need didn't make it mine to tell. It was his life. His Mrs. Robinson. And my worst nightmare.

"Daddy!"

_Shit._

I craned my head to see that Theodore's announcement was correct. Fresh from a conference call, Christian Grey was standing in the doorway of the bathroom, armed with a _Bubble Guppies_ towel and a floating rubber ducky. Clearly, he meant to assist me with bathtime, and though I recognized I needed the help, I dreaded the conversation that would take place afterwards.

We needed to talk about Elena. If this second chance was going to work, discussion needed to be an active element of our relationship. But, even though I recognized this, it didn't make doing it any easier. For hours, I'd been putting it off in the name of "needing to process." It helped that Christian had been too busy to push me, too. He'd only had the time to kiss my cheek before being rushed into an emergency phone call with Ros.

"I overheard that someone isn't wanting to wash their hair," Christian began, crouching next to the tub.

"Mommy isn't washing _her_ hair," Theodore deflected the blame, and had I had not been trying to maintain a stern expression, I would have laughed.

"I'm not the one with green paint in my hair," I tickled his tummy, and his severe expression melted into giggles, "But if you're not going to wash your hair, I guess you can't use your favorite shampoo." I held up a bottle of shampoo covered in images of various cartoon characters.

Theodore paused as if considering it, his eyes darting from mine to the bottle in my hand, and after consideration, he pointed towards the bottle with delight. But as I opened it, he shook his head rapidly, "Daddy do it!"

I looked over at Christian, silently asking if he'd accept the request, and he raised his eyebrow in return, probably wanting to know why I was banned from washing our son's hair.

"He had a knot last week I had to take out. Hasn't forgiven me yet," I whispered, and Christian chuckled as he nodded his head in agreement.

As I watched Christian tame his son's matching curls, Elena's words were stuck in the back of my head. Christian was so happy with his son, and his son adored him. And Elena prevented Christian from looking. Without her involvement, our family would have fallen together much sooner. Years could have been taken off of our suffering had she not discouraged him.

Maybe the vanilla wasn't enough, but Teddy was.

_I should have strangled her with the cord of her own damn blow-dryer…_

Surprisingly, bath time ran smoothly after the shampoo was put away. My toddler was back to happy and giggling by the time I toweled him off and put him in his bright blue pajamas. Keeping him on a sleeping schedule was difficult with the time difference but proved possible, so Theodore was practically snoring by the time his head hit the pillow.

As we left his room, I noticed Christian's eyes were locked on my hair. Though I flattered myself that the results were pretty impressive, there was a nagging suspicion that this attention had far more to do with who owned salons than my highlights.

"Your hair looks nice," Christian began gently, undoubtedly apprehensive of my silence. Perhaps in an attempt to soothe me, he pushed my hair behind my ear, but I wasn't in the mood. After a beat, he finally asked, "Elena?"

His eyes were full of hope, probably thinking that this cut and color had miraculously ended my hatred of her. I understood why he wanted me to make amends with his only friend, but I also understood that she'd forced him into this thought process. She was as much a friend as I was an NFL star. And then the panic hit me.

Had _he_ organized this meeting? Was this all some covert attempt to throw us together and test the waters?

"Did you plan this?" I asked incredulously, instinctively taking a step back from him.

"No," Christian shook his head, a frown creeping across his lips. The disappointment was written across his face as he explained, "Mia called to let me know she was keeping you out later than she expected. By your reaction, I take it that you two did not get on as well as Mia thought."

"That's an understatement," I muttered, starting down the stairs. I hadn't expected him to be so infuriating. Was he anticipating me to come home to gush about how magical and lovely she was? It was horrible enough that they were on good terms, but to think that he assumed the same from me was intolerable. I could hear his sigh as he followed me, and my jaw tightened in response.

"I know you two haven't seen each other in the best of light, but…" Christian began, his voice was so even that I had to remind myself he was talking about a bitch from hell, and I stopped half-way down the stairs to glare at him.

"Best of light? I think she's a pedophile, and she thinks I'm too incompetent to take birth control," I felt exasperated, and I almost regretted starting the conversation in the first place.

"Anastasia, she doesn't think that," Christian's lie was given way by his expression, and I realized she hadn't just said this to me. She'd said it to him before. She'd said a lot of things about me before. There was no limit to how far she'd go, and I didn't doubt he'd heard it all. And he _still_ thought we could be friends.

"You're right," I crossed my arms, feeling betrayed, "She thinks I need a reality check. That I'm a little girl playing house. That I only know your dick. That you have to prove yourself to me because I'm a fucking bounty," I waited for surprise, but his expression gave nothing away, which told me everything. "You've fucking heard this already, haven't you?"

Christian paused before responding, "Elena has voiced her concerns that I am going down a wrong path."

Hearing him say her name made it so much worse. I could see the fifteen-year-old boy she'd abused. The one who needed love and received punishment instead. Yet, despite his physical and emotional wounds, he was _defending_ her. My fingers angrily tangled in my hair, wishing I could somehow wash her words out with the highlights and layered cut. Even though she'd only touched my hair to insult it, I could still feel the sharp sting of her acrylic nails in my scalp.

"It is true that Elena lacks… tact," Christian stepped closer to me, "But because of her rush to words, you may be overanalyzing her. Her intentions may be misguided but come from a good place."

"No, I _could _overanalyze the bruises she'd left from squeezing my shoulder to make me back down. But when she is explicitly telling me to leave you alone so she can fuck her receptionist, I don't think I'm overanalyzing, Christian," I shook my head, resuming my path to the bedroom just to avoid looking at him, "How could you _defend_ her? After everything she's fucking done to you."

"Ana," his exasperation set me on edge, "I was willing to be her sub, and you're aware of that. Just as I asked for consent from you, she asked it of me-"

"You were fifteen!" I interrupted him, "Do you even realize that is only thirteen years older than Theodore? Could you really stomach someone doing that to _him_? She is just hurting you, and you let her get away with it!"

Christian was silent.

"Did you know that she knew? She knew exactly where I was," I shook my head. My limbs felt heavy with a new sense of impending doom as I waited for his answer.

"She knows what she knows from my mother, Anastasia. She's just getting into your head," Christian avoided my stare.

"No. I've never given Grace a play-by-play of where I was. So, did you then?" I probed, "Mrs. God-Damn-Robinson _knew_ everything. So, either you're gabbing the day away with Elena, or she fucking knew the entire time. She told me that she convinced you not to look. Is that true?"

Silence again. I wanted him to scream, to deny it, to say anything. But instead, he slumped into a chair and seemed to contemplate everything he'd heard. What the actual fuck?

"I didn't tell her, Anastasia," his voice was hardly a whisper, and there was something about this confession that knocked the breath out of me. When it was unconfirmed, it could be dismissed as a bitchy mind game, but armed with the knowledge that her control was still active, I felt empty. There was nothing I wanted to say.

"She spent three years telling me that my fascination was nothing more than rejection. Theorized you'd probably married the photographer. And remembered me as a sick son of a bitch," Christian's words didn't feel aimed at me. Rather, his inner monologue seemed to escape the mercurial man, "She knew I had a son."

"It doesn't absolve me of all guilt," I admitted.

"She'd have probably pushed you down the stairs if she'd met you when you were pregnant," Christian muttered, and I sucked in a breath. Fuck, she might have…

I wanted there to be some way I could fix it, some way I could comfort him. The only way I knew how was to press my hand to his shoulder in a weak attempt, but I watched in horror as his jaw tightened and his muscles cringed beneath me. Instinctively, I snapped my hand away, my face burning with embarrassment and rejection.

"I'm sorry," I murmured, taking a step away.

He let her touch him…. And I couldn't.

Maybe, in all of her bitchiness, Elena had been right. Undoubtedly, there was a difference between us, but surprisingly, it was to her benefit. She was top priority, the type of attention he thought he deserved, and I was a distant second. There was something there for me, I could see it, but I could never touch it.

As my eyes began to water, I dropped to the bed in defeat. Just as I'd assumed, I'd fucked it up in record breaking fashion. It only took one day.

I was surprised to feel a dip in the bed beside me, and I peeked one eye open to see a timid Christian sitting beside me.

As he watched me, I wasn't entirely sure what he was waiting for. Was he anticipating a hysterical sob (which I could surely provide momentarily) or a furious scream before stomping upstairs? Or was he being patient for me to sit up and continue the conversation? I didn't want to do any of it. So I just stared back at him, silently daring him to just explain what he wanted. Explain anything, really.

"I will address your questions," he was clearly unsure how to handle this, "Yes, I did know she was less than kind when talking about you, but I foolishly did not think it mattered. My relationship with you is independent of her, and I never dreamed she'd do this to you. Any of it. But you must know that, if she had informed me of Theodore, I would have done something. And I would have prevented Mia's plans if she'd run it by me."

He was so clueless, and I wanted to be livid at him for that, too.

"You let her touch you."

I wasn't sure who was more surprised, Christian or me. My voice was so bitter, so much more than I'd ever realized I was. For Christ's sake, I had a baby with someone who recoiled at my touch. Every time he was close, I felt the need to touch him, to comfort him, and to show some kind of affection in the only way I knew how. Yet, all I ever did instead was touch his hair or try to sit on my hands.

"She knows where," Christian answered honestly. I was relieved to not watch him beat around the bush to avoid uncomfortable topics, but I was still rattled by this information.

_She knew where?_ What did that even mean?

"Do you have lipstick?"

Now this bewildered me. Lipstick? What the hell did he want with lipstick?

"Do I have lipstick?" I repeated, cocking an eyebrow and sitting up to better study his expression.

"Do you?" he was clearly serious.

"Lipgloss?" I suggested weakly, but instead of responding, he abruptly disappeared into the closet. Just as I started to think he'd officially lost it, he reappeared with a small tube that, if I hadn't seen the label, I would have assumed was some sex toy. After popping the black top, he revealed a bright, harlot red shade of lipstick and handed the small tube to me.

I inspected the lipstick, searching for the trick. There had to be a magic button that turned it into a bullet vibrator or an attachable cap that made it a butt plug. Or maybe make-up was one of the sub rules I'd neglected from the contract. "What is this?"

"Lipstick, Anastasia," Christian was laughing at me, and then he did the unthinkable. He took his shirt off…

"Is lipstick some sex term I don't know?"

Now, he was definitely laughing at me. "No, Anastasia. This is actually a tube of lipstick. I don't typically put something called _Ruby Roo_ inside of someone. Unless you have a particular request you'd like to voice."

"What are you doing? Is this a peace offering or something?" I awkwardly rubbed my arm, unsure if I should fake a grateful smile or get angry he thought red lipstick would make us even.

"No," Christian shook his head, taking a seat beside me on the edge of the bed, "Anastasia, your touch means… so much, and I don't want to fear it. But I need rules. There are places…" he tensed, "I don't want you to touch. So, I want you to know where you can. It's either this or tattoo," he cracked a smile, trying to ease the mounting tension in the room.

Holy fuck.

He wanted me to draw a map? With _Ruby Roo_?

Though I struggled to comprehend the gravity of what he was saying, my excitement was barely containable. Part of me begged to jump for joy that I could actually touch him after years of anticipation, yet the more logical part dreaded the idea of pressing into his hard limits. I never wanted to hurt him, yet the smallest miscalculation of my hand could be torture to him. My fear turned my limbs to lead while my heart practically beat out of my chest.

"Sit on me."

His bossy tone was surprising, but he hardly needed to ask me twice with or without it. Christian took my hand, placing a kiss on my knuckles before placing the lipstick in my grasp. Wrapping his hand around mine, he moved it towards his shoulder. "Press down," Christian breathed, his voice dripping in nervous anticipation, and I obeyed.

The rich, red pigment striped on his skin as he lead me across his body. I held my breath as the lipstick stained the curve of his shoulder down to his rib cage, watching each muscle tense in response, and I struggled to withhold a reaction as I spotted each little white scar. Seven round dots, each still full of pain long after the skin healed.

"And the other side," Christian whispered, snapping me back into focus. As my eyes shot to his, I searched for horror and anger, but instead, I got an unreadable expression that panicked me as he released my hand.

As I mirrored the line on the other side, his hands rested on my hips as if trying to ground me, and I needed it. Each mark and each limit defined an agonizing memory, a reminder of the cruelty put on a child, and I wished I could do something. I wished that it could be kissed away like a papercut, but there was seemingly nothing I could do other than respect it.

"There, done," I was relieved at the completion of the second line, and I contained my emotion with a small smile.

"No, you're not," Christian corrected, tracing the base of his neck, and I followed with the crimson hue. Feeling completed with my task, I didn't know what to do. Should I test the boundaries or wait for instructions?

Releasing my hips, Christian shifted for me to move off of him, and obliging, I stood and watched silently as Christian squeezed my hand, "Are you okay?"

I was surprised with the question. Was _I _okay? He was the one letting me push into his hard limits, and he wanted to know if _I _was okay. I wanted to say just this, but the truth was that I didn't know. I was angered and saddened by everything I saw, but I was so happy that he was willing to share this with me.

"Yeah," I murmured, squeezing his back and offering a smile, "Just thinking, maybe you should get a tattoo of this. I'm thinking you should trade the red lipstick in for barbed wire or cheesy quotes."

"Noted," Christian seemed amused, "Now my back," he twisted so that his back was now to me. I had to cover my mouth to subdue the sob building in my throat.

_Oh my God._

Nine. Nine individual scars marred his smooth skin. Each with their own horrifying story to tell.

"Follow the line from my chest all the way around to the other side," Christian filled the silence, and I did as he said, connecting the ruby trial across his body. He was left in what seemed to be a bizarre vest straight from a drug-induced pre-rave body painting session. Each muscle is so tense that I nearly stepped away.

"Around your neck, too?" I whispered carefully, and following his nod, I added another red line, "Finished."

He visibly relaxed as he turned to face me, "Those are the boundaries."

Silence followed as I stared into his eyes, waiting for someone to break the stalemate. I didn't trust my voice not to betray me, my eyes not to burst into tears, or response to let him down. And he waited, too. I didn't know if it was fear or lust or simple confusion as he gazed back at me.

Timidly, I raised my hand and dotted the red lipstick on the tip of his nose, and as his eyes nearly crossed to watch the lipstick hit his nose, I smiled, "Rudolf."

When his eyes returned to mine, my playful smile faltered, and my breathing nearly stopped as he took the lipstick out of my hand. Fuck, I'd messed it up. I'd taken his trust and turned it into a goddamned joke. What the hell is wrong with me?

"You're blushing, Miss Steele."

"What-" I abandoned the sentence as he striped each cheek with a layer of bright red with a victorious chuckle.

Oh thank God.

I practically erupted in giggles, overwhelmed with relief, happiness, and even love for my Rudolf.

"I can live with the boundaries," I whispered, and I gently placed my hand within the boundaries, amazed by how perfect it felt to actually touch him.

"I took a raincheck earlier today," Christian murmured, his hands returning to my hips as he tugged me closer, and my breath caught as his thumbs hooked in my waistband.

"I remember you were more concerned about my shirt," I teased, biting my lower lip.

"Correct, Miss Steele," Christian's smirk made my knees weak as he effortlessly tugged my shirt off, discarding it casually on the floor in victory. He'd finally gotten the damn shirt off, and I suddenly didn't give a damn about acting coy or teasing him. I just wanted this.

Christian's boyish laughter was infectious as I hit the mattress, and I was smiling like an idiot as I somehow ended up beneath him under the bed. Immediately, Christian's skilled fingers went to work on the buttons of my skirt, mumbling, "Can I just rip it off?" as he realized how many seemingly decorative buttons were functional. Pushing the skirt away, Christian's hand pushed against my groin, making me call out in delight.

I shifted my hips closer to him, pressing myself into his hand, and effortlessly, he removed my bra in one simple move, discarding the lace garment haphazardly. The lipstick from his nose spread on my skin as he kissed down my neck to my chest, giving each nipple his undivided attention, and my fingers tangled in his hair, eager for more.

A whine escaped my lips as he shifted away from my breasts and started to kiss lower, creating a trail of Rudolf red lipstick down my stomach. When he reached my panties, his impatience left him less than gentle, and the black lace didn't stand a chance against his grasp. Happily splitting it in two, he smirked as he casually dropped the panties in the growing pile of my clothing. Each piece was a victory, and it left me buzzing in need.

We needed this. Right now. Even if it ruined the sheets. Even if we should have talked longer.

I needed to know we were okay. And this is how we proved that.

I gasped as I felt his tongue on my sex, and my head fell back as he circled my clit. As he pressed a finger inside, curling it just right, he whispered, "So perfectly wet, Miss Steele," against me. The warmth of his breath and the vibration of his voice felt like heaven, and my eyes only peaked open at the crinkling sound of a foil packet.

Grinning, I snapped the foil out of his hands, enjoying the bemused expression on his face as I sat up on my knees to face him. Despite the roadmap, his body still tensed as I leaned down, holding onto his wrist for balance, and just to get even, I delivered a long, hot lick to his cock. His gasp and subsequent moan was fucking perfect, and had I not been so desperate to get him deep inside of me, I'd have happily explored getting more.

The condom rolled on easily, and as soon as it was secure, Christian's lips were tight against mine, tasting and searching. I could feel the venerable desperation in his kiss, and I tentatively rested my hand on a safe-zone. He, in turn, grabbed my hips and held on tight as he purposefully fell with his back to the bed. I just barely kept from falling on top of him and must have looked hilariously confused because Christian's lips parted in a relaxed laugh as he looked up at me.

"Problem with being on top, Miss Steele?"

_On top._

_Oh. _

Though our sex life had hardly been limited to missionary, he'd never let me on top. He'd covertly push me to my back or would rather noticeably restrain me. Noting my wide eyes, Christian's hands squeezed mine as he guided me, and I hesitantly eased myself down on him. As his hips flexed, I moaned in delight. His lips formed a perfect _O_ as his length stretched and filled me perfectly. I squeezed his hand for balance as I rose and fell onto his cock, and I wasn't sure which one of us loved it more.

"So perfect," Christian murmured, watching with intensity as I slowly started to form a rhythm. Up and down. Up and down. Fuck, up and down a little faster. I was just starting to pick up speed when I decided to tease him, coming almost to a complete stop. Christian's eyes shot open as my pace dramatically slowed, and he thrust deeply into me.

I called out in pleasure, leaning over his body slightly as my hand rested on the bed. The fire inside of me stopped me from any teasing attempts, and my hips picked up momentum. I needed it harder, faster, _more_. And I was entirely in charge of getting it. The power I felt surging through me was astonishing. Christian was so wrapped up in this, in me. He truly wanted me. I somehow could please him in ways I'd never imagined.

"My Ana," Christian whispered breathlessly, mesmerized by the movement of my hips, and I nearly lost it.

"Always," I smirked, "_Rudolf_."

If it meant he'd always press such a hard thrust into me, I'd have always annoyed him during sex. My nails dug into the sheet, and I was hardly able to keep my eyes open with the effort of riding him as intense as I fucking could. Each inch was just right, every deep thrust mind-blowing, and the pressure between my legs growing exponentially. I was so close…

Christian's groan left me in awe as I watched him come undone. Seeing Christian tilt his head back and go over the edge was enough to seal my fate. Each muscle in my body felt like it was on fire as my orgasm washed over me, blinding me in satisfaction. My muscles turned to jelly, and I collapsed onto Christian in exhaustion, parting my lips as he reached his climax.

The only sound in the room was our breathing as we both struggled to catch it, and I didn't want any of it to change. I was happy to spend eternity caught in orgasmic bliss, resting my head on his chest. The moment was too overwhelming for me to notice that I was in in the no-go part of his body paint vest, but if he noticed, he really didn't care. One hand traced the curve of my back while the other smoothed my hair, seemingly just as content.

"You are so beautiful," Christian's tone is emphatic yet calm, and I tilted my head to get a better view of him. The red lipstick I'd dotted on the tip of his nose had smeared across his nose and parts of his cheek, and from what I could tell, I was covered in _Ruby Roo_ markings, too. Before the dubious expression could fully manifest on my face, Christian's arms wrapped around my body possessively, keeping me in the no-go zone, "Mine."

I laughed softly, kissing his lips as I agreed, "Yours."

* * *

**This chapter was so hard for me to write because it really evolved. I walked in with a plan, but as it started to grow, the plan didn't work anymore. And yet again, I had to push that lemon I wrote back to another chapter! Starting to think I'll never get it out there!**

**What do you guys think about the chapter? I felt like Ana really showed Christian what Elena was like, and in return, he opened himself up to her. I wasn't sure about adding in the lipstick scene so soon, but I think it really deepens their relationship. Also, I have gone three chapters without a Christian POV! Don't worry, he's coming back very soon. Plus, how did the lemon go? I'm starting to love writing them. **

**I want your thoughts! Please review, favorite, and follow! **

**HAWTgeek**

* * *

Update: I have said this before and will say this again. Please remember that,_ when you are writing a review, a real person reads them_. It is not a mean shout into the void to make yourself feel better. Criticism is accepted and appreciated. However, calling every aspect of my story disgusting or a disappointment means you probably shouldn't be reading it any more.


	23. Fifty Shades of the Shower

**Fifty Shades of Secrets**

**Chapter 23: Fifty Shades of the Shower**

* * *

**Christian Grey,**

The weather on the day Anastasia was to leave was fitting. The grey clouds disrupted the panoramic views of the city, threatening to spill rain but never allowing the bottom to drop out. It was just enough to ruin your plans but not enough to cancel a flight.

Short of an emergency, I doubted there was any possibility of getting her to stay past Sunday afternoon. Anastasia would never abandon her responsibilities to stay curled up in bed, nor would she allow me to either. Her five o'clock flight was destined to have her on board no matter what I had to say, and I had to admit that, despite the frustration, I was proud as hell. Anastasia found success without the cushion of my protection and kicked ass the entire time. She was perfectly capable of living without me, though I hoped I would never have to see it. On Monday morning, she would be at work bright and early, still wearing my mark under her blazer.

Without question, Anastasia was not someone Elena had in mind for me, but until now, I'd assumed her opinion was solely unwarranted yet well-meaning advice. Elena never hesitated to make her views known, but naively, I assumed her discretion would keep all of our conversations confidential. Just as naively, I wanted to believe that this behavior was uncharacteristically dominant over my life, but threatening Anastasia was too strong to ignore.

It had been one thing when she didn't believe or approve of my decision regarding my family. Naturally, a dominant who had been practicing for decades viewed the dominant lifestyle as irreversible and my commitment unrealistic, and while I was infuriated at her accusation of my being unfit, I reasoned that the advice stemmed from good intentions. It was enough to cool our relationship and restrict all contact with my former friend. But I'd misjudged her. Elena has every intention of deciding my future and would have gladly sent the two things I cared about most in this world, Teddy and Ana, on their way, and she didn't care about the consequences.

I'd assumed that, when I stepped out of her playroom and into my own, the control she had over me would cease. We would be equals, each dominants with subs waiting at home, but just as I had as a teenager, I blindly accepted her direction. Elena supplied the brunettes and offered me advice over casual dinners and a joint business venture. Under her management, I lived my life seemingly free, but I was just as much a sub to her. She'd taken a fucked-up teenager and convinced him that he never needed to hear "I love you" and gave him the pretense of strength. But that was to end.

All of it.

I'd instructed my assistant to carefully withdraw all support from Elena-related projects. To soothe my guilt, I'd supported her husband's logging company, but now, I didn't care how far I sent it spiraling. The salons? Finished the end of the week. She could close or find a new backer because the fate no longer mattered. The relationship? Severed. The only thing Elena could fall back on when I was done was her "good name" with my family, but it was not to her benefit.

Grace didn't need to know what Elena and I did. Grace saved me, and I knew it would break her heart should she learn what her next-door neighbor did. And selfishly, I didn't want to answer to my previous past times, to the Red Room. It was easier to slam the door on the past than sort through it all.

What I wanted was so close I could touch it. My family was becoming a reality. Anastasia was in my bed, and my son was blissfully asleep, surrounded with warmth and affection I'd lacked at his age. My entire world, everything I cared about, was safely tucked under this roof, and the possibility of permanence was a top priority. Nothing could hurt them if I had anything to do with it,_ especially_ Elena.

I watched as the sun illuminated my "more." Even though I'd woken up an hour earlier, I couldn't will myself to leave the bed beyond retrieving my laptop and smartphone. The first time around, my boundaries kept Anastasia was arm's length, and it was only when she was gone that I realized how much I enjoyed a morning with Anastasia. Her presence grounded me and kept the darkness at bay, and looking at her brought a smile to my lips. In our sex-drunk haze, we'd neglected to wash the red lipstick off before falling asleep, and red stains littered her naked body and the sheets beneath us.

This moment- this relationship- felt suspiciously perfect. It seemed like a scene from a Nicholas Spark's novel Mia poured over. We were too happy. I loved her too much. And we were getting along too well. An earth-shattering revelation led to sex instead of leaving. We could fight and fuck while still being parents. Were we asking for something bad to happen?

"Mmm," Anastasia shifted in bed, pulling me away from my panic, and as she started to wake, she instinctively covered her eyes from the dull sunlight coming through the clouds, "How can you deal with all of this light? It's _six am_."

"It's nine thirty and overcast."

"On a Sunday. Weekends are practically another time zone," Ana hugged the sheets closer to her, giving me a pout as she started to peak around the room. She recognized the overcast weather but didn't give me the satisfaction of telling me I was right. Instead, she started to investigate the red sheets and the red splotches staining her from head to toe. Biting her lower lip, she stifled a laugh, "It looks like a crime scene."

"I maintain my innocence," I added dryly, pressing a nearby button to further open the curtains, and Anastasia's eyes narrowed on me.

"Morning people can't be human," she muttered.

"You're the one afraid of sunlight. Maybe you're a vampire," I suggested, abandoning my laptop to stretch my arm across the bed and grip her hip. Proximity to Anastasia was addicting. The closer I got, the closer I wanted to be.

"You've figured me out. Now I have to bite you," Anastasia's smile was broad as she placed her hand carefully on my arm, unsure of where the smudged boarders stood.

"Kinky."

Anastasia's eyes perked up, and she struggled to maintain a serious face as she quipped, "Mr. Grey, are you asking me to put on body glitter and dress like a Hollister ad?"

I stared at her, confused, and in response, she modeled the same expression.

"You haven't seen Twilight?" Anastasia's voice lacked the obvious signs of sarcasm, so I decided to take her seriously.

"Do you think I've seen Twilight?" I responded, casually cocking an eyebrow.

Prior to Anastasia entering my life, my time was heavily organized. The weekdays belonged to work, sessions with my personal trainer, and the odd literary classic now and again. The weekends belonged to subs, or if I was without one, casual meals with Elena. And after Anastasia left, I was unable to stomach the possibility of someone new attempting to fill her space, and to Ros's delight and Elena's disgust, I drowned myself in my company. If I watched something, it was a classic film, not teenagers falling in love with vampires.

"Fair point," Anastasia conceded, "I'd suggest a movie marathon, but I have a feeling it'd escalate into sex before the end of the first film."

"Sounds appealing to me."

Anastasia's smile was warm as she kissed me on the nose, smirking, "Of course it does."

I started to lean in, hoping to further stain the sheets, but before my lips could reach hers, she started to move. As I processed what was happening, Anastasia got out of bed and stretched with an adorable crinkle of the nose.

"What are you doing?"

"Shower. If I stay like this any longer, _Ruby Woo_ will become a permanent fixture on my skin," Anastasia smiled, obviously amused by my disappointment that our _sheet-staining_ time was up, and with a smirk, Anastasia disappeared into the bathroom. Moments later, the sound of rushing water and Anastasia's hum was amplified by the stone shower and drifted into the room to further taunt me.

It wasn't as if I didn't need a shower. In fact, the lipstick stained far more of me than it did of her. If we were both in need of a shower, the most logical decision was clearly to share the water…

By the time I reached her, Anastasia had only just gotten the red off her face while the majority of her body was still bright red. When she peaked her eyes open and noticed me entering the room, she was less than stunned. Instead, a flirty smile tugged at her lips as her eyebrows raised.

"Need something, Mr. Grey?"

"Your opinion," I returned the smile, stepping beneath the hot water, "Surely, it'd be in the best interest to shower together. Do you agree?"

"In the best interest of whom?" Anastasia smirked.

"The environment. Obviously. Be considerate, Anastasia," I smiled.

"Obviously," Anastasia agreed with a smirk, "By that logic, we can take twice as long in the shower, and to maintain your good will, I clearly need to let you wash the lipstick off. I'd hate to stand in your way."

"I have a suspicion your intentions are less than innocent," I whispered, kissing the crown of her head as she leaned back against me.

"Mmm, never," Anastasia's lips lifted into a smirk, tracing my bicep as my arm snaked around her. Her head tilted for my lips to press against her neck. The lipstick was surprisingly hard to remove, allowing me more time to spread the body wash across her soft skin.

"Finished," I whispered slowly, suddenly removing my hands from her, and Anastasia's head whipped back to look at me, doing her best to disguise her disappointment. But it quickly was replaced by surprise as I handed the body wash to her. She stared at me in confusion, and I finally explained, "Mind helping? I'm pretty sure you got _Ruby Roo_ all over me, Miss Steele."

Anastasia paused, unsure how to respond to my suggestion, and honestly, I was just as astonished as her. Twenty-four hours ago, her hands would have been pressed to the wall or safely tucked away, but now I wanted her touch. I wanted to prove to Anastasia that I was willing to change and that I did see her touch as something different than Elena's. And I wanted to prove to myself that we were alright.

"Are you sure?" Ana's whisper was so soft that it was nearly lost to the roar of the shower, and I nodded my head.

"Yes, Anastasia. Just…" I swallowed, urging away the tightening in my chest, "not too far out of the line."

"Of course," Anastasia nodded, obviously intimidated by the magnitude of my request.

My attempts at a reassuring smile only made her seem smaller, and she took a deep breath and started to wash the red lipstick off. She started firmly in the safe zone, her hands quaking, and I nearly stopped her there. I had intended to relax Anastasia, not alarm her further. But my selfish need for proof kept me silent. Unfortunately, there wasn't much too wash from the safe zone, and what was there didn't have the longevity of her markings. Anastasia quickly ran out of space, and for a moment, her face went green.

"Didn't think you'd be a cinnamon body wash kind of guy," Anastasia was trying to distract me, moving closer to the line. Despite her best intentions, I was still very aware of everything she touched and each centimeter she strayed, but likewise, I wanted to put her at ease.

"You don't like it?" It was a strain to stay calm, though I forced the words out in a composed tone. Luckily, Anastasia didn't call attention to it and just shook her head.

"No, no, I do… Just surprised," Anastasia smiled softly, her thumb pressing beyond the line, and my heart stopped. Each muscle tightened in response, followed by a panic building inside my chest. Despite my attempts to calm the instant terror, Anastasia was hardly fooled. Even the apologetic smile slid off her face, replaced with concern.

Instantly, her hand lifted off of my skin as if I was a hot coal, and her eyes shifted to the shower wall. With the water pelting her face, it was impossible to tell if the beads running down her skin were tears or merely a byproduct of the showerhead.

"I'm so sorry," Anastasia stumbled back, almost slipping on the slick tile, and her hand pressed to her mouth to contain the cry building in her throat. No, no, no. Guilt seized me, and I instinctively pulled her closer.

"No, please don't cry," I was desperate to make her pain stop, yet she broke out into a sob in my arms. Alarm prickled at my skin again. Had this been too much? Was I pushing Ana away without realizing it? Words spilled out of my mouth, "Please, please don't cry… I need this. I want this. I just can't bear it."

This made Anastasia cry more.

Shit.

"Anastasia," I placed my hand gently on her chin, urging her to look up at me, and hesitantly, she stared up at me with bright, red eyes. Everything she'd said last night rang in my ears, and I realized that talking about it might have been better than jumping into proof. "This has nothing to do with you. This is my own shit. Elena has never been and will never be more important than you, and her touch is nothing compared to yours. I deserved her whip, and…"

Anastasia's face blanched at whip.

"Your touch is much more," I continued, "Which is why I struggle with it. I don't know how to accept something I don't deserve, Anastasia."

"Christian," Anastasia shook her head so quickly that I almost couldn't process she was doing it initially, "I'm not pulling away because I think she has more of a right to you. I love you. And I can't hurt you. I've done so much to hurt you already, and you _don't_ deserve that. You don't deserve any of that." I realized that she was pleading with me, pleading for me to understand and believe her.

There was something about looking into her eyes that almost made me believe it.

"I love you, too."

Anastasia stared at me for a moment with confused expression, and then the brightest smile I'd ever seen on her spread across her lips.

"I'm enough?"

It was my turn to be confused, "What?"

Anastasia swallowed, "Elena. I know you said she doesn't matter," she held up her hand to silence my protests, "But she made a good point. Is missionary with a soccer mom actually okay with you? I know we have a lot of other shit, and maybe it's silly that I'm worrying about this. Especially when we have a son to raise, but…" Anastasia gave out of breath.

I could have killed Elena. Her limits were nonexistent.

"You're hardly a soccer mom with annual missionary sex, Anastasia, but if you were, you would be more than enough. I want _this_. I want to be with you. I want to go downstairs and watch cartoons with my son. Elena can rot in hell for all I care right now," I needed Anastasia to understand.

"Are you still going to be friends with her?" Anastasia's question took me by surprise.

How could she even ask that?

"Of course not," I responded incredulously, "She hid the woman I love and our baby from me. She told you to leave and called my son a birth control mishap." My jaw tightened, and I quickly explained, "You have to understand that our relationship wasn't what you think. Though it's a bit sick, I considered her criticism just as I considered Kate's, irrelevant. I never realized her capacity for intervention, and until Theodore…" I paused, "I just didn't realize. I'd spent years thinking she saved me, and now, I realize she never did. I can assure you, the ties will be cut."

Anastasia's face filled with relief, and she slowly nodded her head, pressing it to my chest. My fingers ran through her wet hair, kissing the top of it gently. Something nagged at me to turn off the shower and return to the world after having a highly anticipated discussion, but the moment was too strong to end it. So, with the hot water still steaming the glass, we stood there in silence, both unsure who would speak first.

To my disbelief, it was Ana.

"We should still have twenty minutes before _Thomas the Train _comes on," Anastasia whispered against my skin. It was the first playful sign I'd gotten from her after entering the shower, and some of my long-held tension relieved.

"What do you want to do for twenty minutes?" I replied, rubbing a pattern in her lower back with the pad of my thumb.

"You."

When I glanced down at her blue eyes, it became clear that my need for confirmation was not solely mine. In our relationship, sex was our coping mechanism. It was evidence that, even after a misunderstanding or disagreement, we were okay. And fuck, I needed it. The panic hadn't subsided. I was so afraid that she'd snap out of it and realize how fucked up this all was, storming out of my life with the exception of custody court dates.

Given this, it was no surprise that I didn't keep the repertoire going, but that didn't stop Anastasia's shock as my lips crashed against hers. She stepped back with me, allowing me to pin her against the wall. A gasp followed as her warm skin met the cold tile, yet her lips formed a smile into mine. Feeling her body pressed against mine momentarily took my breath away, and as I felt her sex press into mine, I was tempted to bend her over.

Breathlessly, I pulled my lips from hers, shifting to savor each inch of her skin. Her porcelain skin was already dotted with my mark, and this only fueled the fire burning in me. She was mine. She _is _mine. I released her wrists and placed my hands on her waist, slowly working my way up the curve of her chest, and Anastasia moaned as my hand cupped her breast. Her nipples hardened under my touch, encouraging each movement. She was always so responsive, so ready…

I nipped at her skin as my kiss moved down her neck, making her jump as I reached her collarbone. Anastasia's bright blue eyes were wide as they stared at me, full of lust and want. As if silently begging me, Anastasia pushed her chest further into my hand as she bit her lip, and I was more than happy to oblige, though I was just as happy to tease her in the process. Her impatience mounted, causing her to squirm, so I pushed her further into the tile and went even slower. When my tongue finally swept across her nipple, Anastasia's legs went weak, and she mumbled incoherent praises. After placing a hand on her hip to stabilize her, my full attention went to her breasts. They were so soft and round, just larger than the palm of my hand…

"Ahh!" Anastasia cried out as my lips wrapped around her nipple, taking a playful bite as I massaged her hip. As I licked the other nipple, Anastasia's balance faltered again, and her hand landed on my shoulder, swallowing as she watched me.

"Something wrong, Miss Steele?" I whispered against her skin, watching the goosebumps rise across her skin.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Mr. Grey," her smile was so breathtaking that I actually laughed onto her skin. What the fuck is happening to me?

"So, this does nothing?" I cocked an eyebrow, sucking on her left breast and watching her try to hold in her moan.

"Nothing," Ana squeaked.

"Too bad…" I sighed teasingly, "Guess I'll have to try harder."

Anastasia's interest peaked, and I could see the building anticipation in her expression. She licked her lips as I pulled off her breasts, kissing down her torso. I traced each hickey as I tasted her skin, and I moaned into her hips as her fingers laced through my hair. A blush crept up Anastasia's body, and I kissed each inch of her skin between her hips, working my way down to her sex. When I'd reached it, Anastasia held her breath in expectation, and my thumb traced the outline of her sex, earning a moan.

One long lick drove Anastasia crazy, and I focused my tongue on her swollen, perfect clit. As my teeth brushed along it, Anastasia threw her head back to the tile, so I bit it harder. By the time my finger entered her warm, sweet sex, she was already dripping wet. She was always so ready…

"Christian, please," Anastasia begged, her chest rising and falling with each ragged breath, "I need it. Now."

I lost my breath for a moment, losing all desire to tease her any longer. God damn, I needed to feel her.

Anastasia's kiss collided onto mine, and I wasted no time reaching for her hips and wrapping her legs around my waist. I wanted to get lost with her, and as I slid inside of her, I was overcome by the perfection of the moment. She was so soft and warm and _mine_.

"I love you," I whispered earnestly as my entire length rested inside of her, and Anastasia's eyes fluttered open, giving me an expression I could have killed for to see everyday.

"I love you, too," Anastasia's lips were on my jaw, nipping at my skin to leave her own marks.

The first stroke was so slow and careful, ensuring that this position wouldn't give her pain. Once I heard the resounding pleasure in her moan, I went a bit harder. Then a bit faster. Then slower again. This pace was driving Anastasia wild, and I could feel her clench around me.

Harder. Faster. More. Fuck.

I was going as fast and hard as I could without breaking her, and Anastasia screamed in delight, the noise echoing off the tile. So I went harder and harder and harder until… Anastasia tightened around me, her nails digging into the safe zone on my arm, and she whispered pleas into my ear for "Harder. Faster. More. Fuck." Again and again until it was my favorite sound. When she reached her climax, I could feel her every reaction, and it was too much for me.

I clutched Anastasia closer to me as my orgasm hit me, and I struggled to catch my breath as the earth-shattering pleasure subsided into a post-orgasm bliss. Anastasia had gone limp in my arms, her head on my shoulder as she weakly held onto me.

"Mmm, oh my God." I felt her smile as opposed to seeing it, and I slowly set her down, careful for her balance. The entire time, her hand stayed on my arm, and she wore that dazed grin while her fingers ran through my hair.

My limbs felt like mush and begged me to bring Anastasia back to the bed, but the nagging pit in my stomach prevented it. No matter how lazy this Sunday seemed, it was the end of our weekend, and the rushed panic of it was hiding in every moment. If she really was going home and our family time ending, I wanted the remaining time to be with my family, toddler included. And that meant going to my living room and turning my seldom-used television to _Thomas the Train_.

_**Anastasia Steele**_,

"_Twain!_" Theodore's giggle permeated Christian's living room as a bright blue train rolled onto the television, and the sound was sobering. Despite facing drastic changes every weekend and perpetual jet lag, Teddy was exuberant, and it underscored how unfair this situation was for him. A normal toddler would be screaming from such instability, but Theodore smiled. Hell, he wasn't even staining Christian's spotless white sofa, and I, as an adult, struggled just to keep my morning tea off the fabric.

I was overcome with the need to make this up to Teddy. Even with a strict sleep schedule, Teddy had every right to be tired. But how was I supposed to fix it? I wasn't going to keep him from his father an extra weekend. Leaving him with a nanny here during the week was _not _going to happen, and the only solution seemed to be a permanent relocation to Seattle.

Naturally, it was the unasked question hanging in the air. _When was I moving to Seattle?_ With an ever-growing list of pros, it was impossible to dismiss the idea, and after my shower with Christian, it nagged against me even more. This was what I wanted, even if our relationship was so new. I'd been in love with him for so long that acting like a couple felt overdue, not premature.

But logically, I understood how irrational and possibly irresponsible this reaction was. No matter how much it felt like the perfect ending to a Romantic Comedy, this was a scene from my real life and not my Netflix queue. You didn't fuck a guy on Friday, quit your job on Monday, and move in with him across the country on Wednesday even if he was the father of your child. Rushing was risky, but was waiting negligent?

It was easy to get lost in my internal battle, so I didn't recognize Christian's question until Teddy was jumping for joy.

_Wait, what?_

"Alright, what's your favorite then?" Christian beamed as he watched Teddy toddle towards him, and I sat up a bit straighter, waiting for a clue.

"Peanut butter and…!" Theodore paused for dramatic effect, but instead of ending the sentence, he just snickered and clasped his hands together like an evil mastermind. I recognized that expression and where this conversation was going.

"Peanut butter and what, Teddy?" Surprisingly, Christian was a willing participant in our toddler's mind games.

"Guess," Teddy nearly fell from his fit of laughter, clearly proud of himself. Christian's reaction was comical. It was as if finding out what accompanied peanut butter was comparable to finding the location of the Holy Grail. He looked to me for answers, though we were both just as clueless.

Like most toddlers, Teddy had fickle taste buds. About a month ago, his sandwiches were exclusively crunchy peanut butter, and after the shift to smooth, he'd dipped into jams. Marmalade was the first, then grape jelly, then a combination of grape _and _strawberry jelly, and at some point, a stint in drizzled honey. Where we stood now was a mystery to me.

"He likes to explore his peanut-butter-sandwich options," I smiled softly, offering an apologetic shrug, and Christian nodded slowly as he processed the news.

"Well, Mrs. Jones is away. I guess you'll have to show me, Teddy," Christian's voice was warm and full of love, and the sound made my heart stop for a minute. I had to bite my inner lip to avoid grinning like an idiot. Teddy, on the other hand, practically jumped out of his chair in excitement.

Before I knew it, we were chasing Teddy from the living room to the kitchen, and I put Teddy on my hip so that he could reach the sink to wash his hands. Christian busied himself with finding the ingredients for a peanut butter sandwich, and unsurprisingly, he struggled to find refined sugars amongst his healthy groceries. By the time Teddy's hands were adequately clean, Christian had amassed a small pile on the kitchen island, most of which could be ignored. Teddy happily took his place on the step stool Christian offered him, and he got straight to work on weeding through the ingredients.

"Blek!" Teddy pointed at an avocado, and Christian laughed.

"You don't like avocado?" Christian bent down a bit to look at him, "Why not?"

"Green," Teddy said matter-of-factly.

"No green?" Christian titled his head, looking up to me for a smile. When I beamed back at him, he returned his gaze to Theodore and struggled to maintain an expression as serious as Theodore's.

"You like green apples," I reminded Theodore, tickling his sides as I added, "_And _green grapes. _And _you love green jelly beans. You like green, cutie."

Teddy's giggle filled the kitchen as he nodded in defeat, swatting at my hands, and once I stopped, he tried to look stern again. He turned his head to his father, eyes starting to fill with admiration and wonder as he declared, "I want something green on my sandwich."

Christian's eyebrow raised, looking up to me for insight, but I was baffled. Testing the waters, Christian held up the avocado, earning a quick dismissal. The island was full of green food, but as I expected, Theodore wasn't interested in the spinach, broccoli, or celery. Just before Christian could give up, Teddy's eyes went wide when he held up green grapes. Teddy exclaimed his joy, nodding his head eagerly.

"You want grapes?" Christian beamed with pride.

"_Grapes!"_ Teddy agreed.

Christian looked up at me, cocking an eyebrow at the secret ingredient, and I laughed softly, reaching for the bread and peanut butter. Teddy tugged on my shirt, and I bent down, leaving the peanut butter application to Christian.

"What is it?" I smoothed Theodore's hair.

"Can we play music?"

I glanced up at Christian, who nodded his approval, and I handed Teddy my phone. He went straight to his favorite playlist, playing a happy pop song that made the reject pile for everyone but toddlers. As I watched Theodore dance circles around Christian's island, the sinking realization hit me that we were both going to have to go home today. I'd worried that, when Theodore woke up on the day to leave, a pout would consume his face and put him in a sour mood, but he was his regular, cheerful self._ I_ was the one pouting.

"What's yours?" Christian's voice surprised me.

"What?"

"Sandwich. Are you as experimental with your peanut butter?" Christian was surprisingly at ease. For a man that knew nothing about cooking, he was capable of creating a peanut butter and grape sandwich, and he didn't seem bothered by the odd demands. He was a good father and was happy to be one.

"Cinnamon," I laughed softly, "You?"

"Grace always put bananas," Christian admitted, holding up the fruit as he began to slice it.

"You're going to need butter," I added as I examined the island.

"He puts butter on a grape and peanut butter sandwich?" Christian asked incredulously. No doubt, he was concerned about the habits I'd engrained in our son, and I waved it off.

"Ray grilled him one once, and it changed Teddy's life." I laughed softly, going to the refrigerator. It was a struggle to find butter in this health-nut assortment, but when I found it, I raised it up as my trophy. Christian didn't notice, his eyebrows still scrunched.

"He grills his peanut butter."

"Teddy's two. He'd wear rainboots in the bathtub if we let him."

_We_ felt right, though I could see it stunned Christian. When we spoke of parenting, it was more on me, what I had already done and what I would continue to do. But despite all of our claims of co-parenting, we hadn't used _we_ yet, and I might as well have handed Christian the moon by the smile he wore.

"One grilled peanut butter and grape coming up," Christian beamed, kissing my forehead, and watching him grill a ridiculous sandwich left an even more ridiculous grin on my face. Domestic Christian Grey left me awestruck. He sliced grapes, grilled a peanut butter sandwich, and watched all twenty minutes of a children's movie that Theodore loved and quickly lost interest in.

The entire time I prepared to leave, I almost stopped. I nearly unpacked my bags. I nearly sent Essie on without us, and I nearly emailed Curtis to think of a last minute excuse to cancel my Monday. I felt like a child at the end of a holiday, desperate to make it continue even when it can't. Each traffic light on the way to the airport presented an opportunity to turn the car around, but I got on the plane. And I watched Seattle get smaller and smaller from the air until it was gone.

* * *

**The last few weeks have been intense. Things are starting to calm down, so updates should become more regular. There is a big surprise just around the corner that I am so excited about. The chapter isn't perfect (major writer's block), and the ending feels a bit weak. But I wanted to get it out there! I hope this cheers up your election day for those in the US. **

* * *

**Now, I feel the need to reiterate this. Criticism is more than alright, but many of the reviews from the last chapter were anonymous hate mail, not "helpful criticism." If you have strong hatred for this story, you do not have to read it. It is that simple. **

**I am not going to make perfect characters who handle situations perfectly because I do not feel that is real, and as the author, I have the creative freedom to make these decisions. You are more than welcome to disagree with the characters and my writing style, but please remember that a real person reads the reviews you write. **

**As for some of the grievances, I will address a few. Many of the things you hate about this story are from the series. It's 50 Shades. They have sex instead of talking, and Anastasia is a notoriously weak character. Having a child doesn't make her perfect. This is a big transition she must cope with. Going from two very different lives (that of his sub and her subsequent life in NY) don't lead to handling situations impeccably. Christian is a reserved man who was dealing with shock, so I tried to convey that. I saw it as a shock that went beyond anger because he had been so close to her. Elena was a close friend of Grace, and I personally believe that the other children would have grown close to her as well.**


	24. Fifty Shades of Announcements

**Fifty Shades of Secrets**

**Chapter 24: Fifty Shades of Announcements**

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**Anastasia Steele,**

Sunday night dragged into Monday morning, painfully and slowly. The flight back to New York was uneventful yet miserable, and nothing could lull me to sleep once I got home. Having the king size bed to myself felt heavenly before I left, but now, it felt empty. Minutes turned into hours, and when my alarm went off at seven am on Monday morning, I doubted I had gotten more than a few hours of rest.

While I made my coffee, my fingers hesitated on Christian's contact. I needed to call him and feel some connection from across the country, but this need terrified me. Had I lost all of my independence in one weekend? In my sleep-deprived state, my fogginess lifted exclusively on how to make coffee, Theodore, and Christian. For the first time in my life, I understood Christian's possessiveness. I itched to know what he was doing and _who_ he was doing it with, and it was driving me crazy not to at least ask. He felt like mine, and I was surprised by how comfortable I was with this.

Obviously, there were no rules for a situation like ours, but it would have been a hell of a lot easier if there were. When they drafted all of the self-help love books, they neglected to sufficiently cover fucking your ex, falling in love with him, and flying across the country during one weekend. Treating it like a hookup and waiting a standard twenty-four hours to text him was juvenile, yet calling him now was just as ridiculous. The sun wasn't even up in Seattle, and he was sleeping- _without me_. With great effort, I put my phone on charge in the kitchen and powered up my laptop.

I'd thought that pushing myself back into my inbox would stir some self-reliant kickass, but all it did was give me time to finish my coffee. After working up a few replies and groaning at the remainder, I gave up on addressing everything before the work day. I jumped in the shower and searched my closet for something to cover _many_ hickeys Christian had left. Each glance in the mirror allowed me to see a new mark and reminded me of a new memory of how it had gotten there. This hardly helped my sour mood.

I decided to get Teddy out of bed, and together, we moped over cereal and cartoons. We got through a few episodes before Essie popped up and reminded me that, despite my bowl of Lucky Charms, I was an adult.

Despite taking the necessary precautions, jet lag hit me hard, and when I stepped into the Manhattan streets, it took me a few blocks to get reoriented to my city. The City that Never Sleeps had somehow changed while I was away. It was in the faces of the crowd, the reflection of the glass, and the morning breeze. Maybe the streets I knew so well became bewildering, or perhaps I was just a sleep-deprived idiot. But I was six blocks uptown when my phone sent me the reminder that I was due for breakfast downtown.

Shit.

The ensuing panic was, to say the least, unsettling. A few blocks into a sprint-in-heels, I decided to hail a cab, and ten other people seemed to have the idea. I was not in the mood to fight for a car, so I was the fifth to finally get in one. The traffic did nothing to help my effort, so when I finally got on the street I needed, I paid the driver and raced on foot to my appointment, cursing my heels the entire time.

I was out of breath and surely looked like hell when I reached _A, B &amp; C, _a trendy restaurant on the edge of the Financial District. It was as if a trendy hotspot from Brooklyn had matured and put their finance degree to use, trading ironic mason jars for minimalistic details. The seats were full of happy professionals, none of which was under twenty-five, and they were sensible enough to plan breakfast into work but not irresponsible enough to blow off obligations for a bagel. The table closest to the window had a woman elegantly removing her scarf as she basked over a hot cup of coffee as if the world was all one big shampoo commercial. I, on the other hand, nearly fell on my ass just walking through the door. Swallowing my embarrassment, I smoothed my windswept hair and politely requested the name of my party.

Scarlet had set up shop in the back, looking as poised and organized as always. Upon seeing me, she waved, and it didn't escape that she was _particularly_ poised and organized today. I could tell without asking that I was in for a work meeting as opposed to a scheduled social hour, and I felt even worse about being ten minutes late.

"Ana!" Scarlet's smile was so infectious and genuine that I nearly forgot my hellish morning- _nearly._

"Sorry, I'm late," I went straight into my apology as I reached our table, "I took a cab and ran into traffic." It wasn't a lie. Just an omission of my bonehead mistake. And omitting my mistake was omitting how pathetically I missed Christian.

"Don't worry about it. I've only been here a few minutes," Scarlet waved it off, and I knew this _was_ a lie. She was always ten minutes early.

"Great," I took my seat across from Scarlet, fishing a few of the most promising manuscripts out of my bag. Though they typically went through various editors and assistants, I'd kept my eyes on these and insisted we put full attention on them. The writers were already locked in with contracts, and with some work, these could easily go onto bestselling series. Before Christian, I'd been a dedicated workaholic who actually got shit done. Now, I was neglecting my pet projects and felt like shit for it.

"Oh, no," Scarlet laughed softly, "That's not really what this meeting is about."

"Oh."

It was hard to hide my shock as I put the manuscripts away and turned my full attention to her. Had I misread her? Maybe this was just a good talk about my weekend before we began the workweek. But when I searched her expression for signs of a casual meeting, they weren't there. She meant business. Just not about this.

"What _is_ the meeting about?" I asked, uncertainty weighing me down in my seat. The entire time she stayed silent, I thought of every shitty thing I'd done in the office and promised myself unrealistic, outrageous reforms. I'd never be late, I'd throw myself into my job, and I'd definitely never check Pinterest at my desk.

"Well, it's important, and I thought we should have the conversation outside of the office. You should be the first included on this," Scarlet stirred an extra Splenda packet into her coffee, clearly nervous. Tapping the excess off her straw, she brought it to her lips and used the time to consider what she wanted to say.

To further my anticipation, the waitress arrived before Scarlet could break her silence, and I hurried my order, eager to get back to our talk. Instead of doing the same. Scarlet poured over the different menu items, and each possibility went through my mind. Was I getting fired? Were we dropping a department? Was it something personal? Maybe her ex-husband had done something the office didn't need to know about.

I'd nearly driven myself insane when the waitress finally retreated with our order, and Scarlet took a deep breath, offering a forced smile.

"You were here before I took over Lewis Publishing, so you know that, prior to our divorce, a lot was up in the air as to its fate. Gregory had considered selling, which was why it was so easy for me to get it in the settlement. I had great plans for LP and ended negotiations upon taking control, but…" Scarlet twisted the pearls around her necklace, "In the last few months, I resumed them."

Did I hear her right?

I stared at Scarlet, trying to piece together this new information. She'd never shown any sign of losing interest in the company, and even after a few bottles of wine, she never said a word about it. Was she being serious? Why would she have resumed negotiations to sell the company she'd singlehandedly tried to save over the last year?

"What?" It was all I could manage, but it encompassed everything I felt. I was glued to my chair with all energy in my body fully devoted to understanding this. "Are you being pushed out of the business? I know you weren't met with the most of respect when you took over, but that is no reason to quit, Scarlet."

"No," Scarlet shook her head quickly, "Of course not. I'm not quitting because some of the team thinks I'm the bitch ex-wife, and really, I'm _not_ quitting. This is the best decision for Wini and, I think ultimately, Lewis Publishing."

"Wini?" I repeated. What did her toddler have to do with selling the company?

"Well," Scarlet's tension started to release in her shoulders, obviously relieved to get it off of her chest, "I want to be a good role model for her, and right now, I'm not. All she'll ever hear is that her mother is the woman who married someone to get a company, which isn't true no matter how much I joke. She doesn't need to grow up thinking I only had her for divorce collateral," Scarlet's finger traced the rim of her cup as she added, "You honestly helped me make the decision."

I put myself out of a job? "I did?"

"Yeah, Gregory is moving to Los Angeles to launch his girlfriend's acting career, and I want Wini to know her father. There's no way to keep him from making Amber's dreams come true, and you've shown me that constant flying between coasts isn't healthy," Scarlet's laugh was sincere this time, "I mean, no offense, you look like hell."

A blush crept on my cheeks as I laughed with her, knowing that she was right. I did look like hell. And when I looked back at Scarlet, I saw my friend and not just my boss, and I had to remind myself that I needed to act like her friend, not just a confused employee. So, I couldn't help but ask, "Why didn't you say something about it?"

"I wasn't sure until recently, and I didn't want to alarm you. It was a surprise that they still wanted to buy Lewis Publishing, and until Gregory bought the house in Malibu, I didn't think he was really moving with this girl. For a while, I planned on handing the company over to you and just taking off for the West Coast, but… LP has needed a new direction. Our brand is outdated, and we've been chasing our tails for years trying to solve it. The company that wants to acquire it can take it into the future, and it is the logical next step," Scarlet explained, and I had to admit that her argument was logical but still delivered the shock factor.

When I'd woken up, the publisher was alive and well, and before lunch, it seemed like a sham. There was a sting that I hadn't been included in this decision, both professionally and personally, but in the end, the owner of the company didn't necessarily have to include me. Besides, I would have been useless in discussion and in dealing out advice in my state. I wondered how many clues I'd missed while being wrapped up Christian and the drama surrounding him, and then I felt even more incompetent.

"I should have brought you in, Ana. I'm sorry," Scarlet's hand reached for mine, squeezing hard, "It just never seemed like the right time for both of us, and it happened so quickly. I thought it'd be a year before all of the details were worked out, but…" Scarlet trailed off, laughing instead, "It'll be good for Wini and me to go to the West Coast. I don't think I could handle LA, especially not with my ex and his new girlfriend running all over town, so the colder climate might do me well. I'm going up soon to decide what's a good fit."

It was easy to see that she was happy, and somewhere deep inside, I was happy, too. Maybe this was the push I needed to leave New York. Without a nine-to-five, what was keeping me on the East Coast?

"Now, about your job," Scarlet was eager to jump to the next subject, looking as though she'd nearly forgotten to bring it up, "Obviously, you're more than welcome to stay. The Manhattan office would love to keep you, I'm sure, but if you don't want to go through the transition, other publishers would kill to have you. And the Seattle office will definitely love to have you on the team-"

"We don't have a Seattle office," I corrected, quelling the excitement I'd felt when she said Seattle. That'd be too much of a dream.

"The new owner does. I didn't say who they were, did I?" Scarlet was nervous again. In fact, she was far _more_ nervous than before, her coffee cup nearly spilling from her shaking hand. "It's Grey Publishing."

The world stopped.

Grey. Publishing.

Christian Grey.

That thoughtful asshole. That caring, controlling shithead.

Damn it, I didn't know how to feel.

I wanted to throw something and get excited and scream at him over the phone all at the same time. To hell with the time difference. He'd overstepped his boundaries. You didn't say you loved someone when you knew you were hiding a major acquisition of the company the person worked for. He was exerting control and dominance, which left me infuriated.

But was that really what he was doing? The part of me that missed him in the bed next to me urged to give Christian the benefit of the doubt. If he'd been in talks long before he knew I worked there, perhaps my place in the company was irrelevant, and maybe I was overreacting. Or maybe he was just a dick.

"As in Christian Grey? Or…?" My jaw tightened with the effort it took to keep calm. Perhaps it wasn't Christian. It could be someone who just really loved interior decorating and appreciated neutral color schemes.

"Yes. He knew Gregory, so Greg thought he'd be a good fit to buy it. I didn't deal with him when I returned to them, but…" Scarlet knew she couldn't give me the peace of mind I wanted, so she stopped.

The inner conflict continued to grow. Sure, the choice had been all but made, but he'd made the decision for me. While I wanted to go to Seattle, letting him decide how I went was invasive. How could he not have brought this up? Surely, when I was in his bed over the weekend, he could have said _something_.

"Um," I fiddled with my phone, resisting the intense urge to press speed dial.

"You can call him if you want?" Scarlet offered, apologetically sipping at her coffee.

"Oh, no…" I shook my head. I was determined to keep my shit together for the rest of the meeting. Sure, I was furious. Sure, I was shell-shocked. But I wanted to be a seemingly functional adult for a while, "Work now. Yell at the boyfriend later."

"_Boyfriend_?"

_**Christian Grey,**_

_No new messages._

_No missed calls. _

The page hadn't changed in hours. I knew because I'd checked it compulsively all morning. I started at five in the morning, and every twenty minutes, my phone was back in my hand, even if I was mid-sprint. Every time, there was nothing. When I woke up, it was understandable. It was barely eight am in New York, and surely, Anastasia and Theodore deserved sleep. However, at nine, it was mid-day in Manhattan, and my inbox hadn't improved.

I'd never been in a situation where I was waiting by a phone for someone to call. The only reference I had was Mia's many unworthy boyfriends in high school, and ignoring Biology homework to sit by a landline wasn't comparable to discreetly checking a cell phone during an important meeting. Especially when Ros was ready to shatter my phone and slit my throat with the glass.

"The freight is on ahead of schedule and should arrive within the next week," Ros's enthusiasm was diminished by the hour of the meeting. As a rule, she hated conversing before ten am and had even less patience with bullshit. When my assistant offered her herbal tea instead of her expresso upon arrival, Ros nearly broke her in half.

"Mmmhmm," I agreed. Early this morning, I'd poured over the report she forwarded. It gave me something to do while on the treadmill aside from obsessively watching my notifications, so my guilt was soothed that I wouldn't miss anything important in my impaired state.

"I'll be out of the office tomorrow. The wife and I are going to her niece's wedding."

"Right," I nodded. My eyes wandered to my smartphone on my lap, palms twitching with the effort not to touch it.

"I'm getting a full body tattoo of an eagle. Thinking of getting an implant to make my nose a beak."

"Fantastic," I added, still not paying attention.

"Damn it, Christian," Ros dropped her file to the desk, snapping me out of my fog. When I looked up at her, my blood ran cold. Ros was one of the only people I knew who wasn't intimidated by me, a commodity I enjoyed more and more as I aged. But as I sat under her glare, I wasn't sure what I regretted more, not paying attention or not getting her damn coffee. Either way, Ros didn't hesitate to go off on me, "I get it. I do. Believe it or not, I am very passionate about my wife."

"I didn't need to know that," I interrupted. My voice was calm in an attempt at the professional high ground, but Ros didn't bat an eye.

Ros held up her hand to silence me, "Fuck her. Marry her. Carry her through the God Damn threshold like a sexist asshole. But do it off the clock and get your shit together," Ros collected her briefcase and left on that note. Before closing the door, she peaked in with the proudest grin I'd ever seen and added, "I had Olivia hold her calls."

_Fuck_.

As if a weight had been lifted, my arm outstretched and clasped my smartphone, and I pretended not to hear Ros cackle down the hall. I'd been pathetic enough during the day and didn't want the further embarrassment of rushing Olivia to give me a report on my missed calls.

On the third ring, Anastasia picked up the phone. "Hey, I tried to call you at the office."

Her icy tone left me mute and stunned. She didn't want to leave yesterday and hated me by the morning. What had I done?

"Meeting with Ros. Sorry I missed you. Is everything alright?" Disappointment dripped from my voice. Like the sexist asshole Ros described, I expected a warm greeting where she begrudgingly confirmed she missed me just as pathetically as I missed her, and like a child, I was grouchy for not receiving it. I hoped for redemption in a horrible work tale about a broken copier or a missed appointment, but it didn't come.

"Why didn't you tell me that you're buying Lewis Publishing?"

Shit.

I lunged for the report on my desk, thumbing through the various pages. Through the haze, I'd heard Ros say Lewis Publishing at some point and didn't recognize the enormity of the name.

A few years ago, when Gregory Lewis was headed to a bitter divorce, I'd stepped up to take the publisher off of his hands and stepped off just as quickly when the new owner, his ex-wife, decided to hold on to it. Vaguely, I remembered being told that the owner was interested in the offer again, and I left the acquisition to someone else.

When Anastasia left my life, I'd used SIP to hold on to her and put every effort into building Grey Publishing as a brand. Due to that, I'd gone through three presidents in three years and wanted Lewis's team to bring my goals for the publisher to life. But when she'd reentered my life, my interest diminished, and someone else poured their energy into the company and clearly managed to seal the deal quickly. But somehow, even with full knowledge of her job and her title in her email signature, I failed to recognize she was employed by the same company I'd tried to buy for years.

When the report confirmed that an agreement had been reached, impending doom swallowed me whole. Ros's fury suddenly felt like a drop in the ocean.

"Slipped my mind," I admitted, casually adding, "Someone else handled it."

Casual was clearly not the correct approach.

"Are you screwing with me right now? It _slipped your mind_ to tell me you bought a fucking company I work for," Anastasia's voice dropped to a whisper, though the venom made up for the volume.

"We handle a lot of acquisitions, Anastasia," my annoyance was evident. I was hardly the only one involved in the interaction, "I would have thought you were a part of the process."

"Do you always buy the employers of the person you're fucking?" Anastasia's frustration allowed her to glide past my subject change. I was dismayed at how drastically our arrangement had changed in such a short time span. In the shower on Sunday, Anastasia loved me, but on the phone, she gave herself the title of Fuck Buddy.

"Apparently, only for you," my voice tightened, "I was unaware we'd shifted to just fucking. Glad to be kept informed."

"Stop changing the subject, Christian," Anastasia's topic avoidance was clearly superior, "Boundaries exist. You don't just buy the company your girlfriend is working for! This is bullshit. So what? You're my boss now."

"Technically, boss's boss." I was soothed by the new title she'd given herself, but that didn't make the reaction less unsettling. When I asked her to move into my apartment in Manhattan, I'd hardly met this resistance.

"And you don't think that is an unethical? I am fucking my boss's boss," Anastasia's dismay was genuine, but I couldn't tell where it was founded. Was she really upset at the morality of it all or just upset with me?

"Firstly, you fucked him more than just last night if you want to be specific," I corrected. My disappointment mounted into irritation. Buying the company of a colleague did not automatically translate to overstepping boundaries. "And the fucking in question dates back before he became your boss. Secondly, you are not fucking him right now. You are _arguing_ with him."

"Because he's such an ass."

I recognized I was being insulted and that amusement would be unintended, but there was something about her tone that prompted a chuckle. And then another. It _wasn't_ funny. Despite being livid, the insult was refreshing. The unpredictable, high-strung Anastasia Steele was at least being honest.

"_An ass_?" I repeated, stifling my laughter. The more I thought about it, the funnier it was.

"Don't you dare make me laugh when I'm mad at you."

With that, the laughter was impossible to keep back. Clearly, it was infectious because Anastasia strained to hold back her giggle and couldn't finish an insult without it. That didn't mean she didn't try. After multiple attempts and a few curse words I was too old to understand, Anastasia's exasperation.

"Someone has expanded their vocabulary, Miss Steele," I raised my eyebrows, entertained.

"Shut up," Anastasia muttered into the phone, and I could hear her deep breaths on the other line. There was a pang of disappointment that I was not there to handle this appropriately, though I didn't even know what was appropriate. Just as she should have been able to yell at me in person, I should have made her laugh in person. After a long silence, Anastasia finally asked, "Did you buy Lewis Publishing because of me? Be honest."

"No, I didn't," I answered, but even as I said it, I wasn't sure I was being honest. No, I had not bought LP to watch her like I'd bought SIP. I was unaware of her employment when the deal began and hadn't persisted in it solely because of her. But if I had known, I would have bought it in a heartbeat. I struggled to give up control, and she had every right to doubt me.

There was a sigh of relief on the other line.

"When did you even get into the publishing business?" Anastasia's voice was casual now, probably not realizing this was a further landmine.

"A few years ago, I purchased a Seattle-based publisher," I responded.

"Seattle-based publisher? There are only-" Anastasia stopped, and somehow, I could feel her glare from thousands of miles away, "You bought Seattle Independent Publishing, didn't you?"

"It was very profitable," I evaded the question, "And I was very interested in the market."

Anastasia's laughter was easier and more relaxed now, "_Sure_, Christian. Don't you have work you need to be doing? Like buying my favorite coffee shop or candy."

"Don't you?" I returned the smirk, ignoring the last part.

"I'm meeting with my realtor to look over the paperwork," Anastasia's voice was careful, and I suddenly understood why. Among the discussion of LP's acquisition, we did not address the elephant in the room. If Anastasia's residence in New York depended on her office being based in Manhattan, what happened when the office was less defined? The acquisition raised the question we'd avoided. Was she going to stay in New York or come to Seattle?

It wasn't that I had overstepped boundaries, not really. Her response to SIP proved she expected it from me. But the purchase forced the issue, and I was the person to blame. Without me pushing her, the decision would have been made on her terms. Shit.

This had the potential to ruin everything we'd worked for. Her trust in me could be irrevocably shattered, and should she decide to move to Seattle, it could be tainted by my irresponsible, irrational inability to recognize a fucking name. I could see it all going down in flames, and my palm twitched with the need to be there.

"Going through with the sale?" I tested the water, hoping to pull her into the conversation. Obviously, I was eager to hear that Anastasia was already preparing to relocate permanently to Seattle, but fear nagged at me. Anastasia could just as easily stay on for the transition and take on longer hours in the process, which would further our issues. I needed some sort of confirmation or to at least open the conversation.

"Yes, I am," Anastasia didn't take the bait to elaborate on her living arrangements.

More quiet.

"Still mad at me?" I pushed.

"Yes," Anastasia huffed, "But, on a scale of one to ten, how much are you into the _boss's boss _kink? You clearly keep working at it."

"I'm taking that as you have forgiven me," I decided.

"Take it how you want," Anastasia mumbled, "Love you, Jackass. But don't doubt you're getting hell for this."

* * *

**Happy belated Thanksgiving! I'd intended to get this out this afternoon but just got around to it. The end of the year is always a crazy time! **

**Before you say it, I know. She forgave him quickly. But in the books, she forgave him quickly, too. And it is definitely going to come up again, and they'll need to work through it. But this brings a lot of issues up and makes room for some storylines I'm really excited about. I hope you guys like it and want to hear back from you. What do you think of where everything is going?**

**As always, please review, follow, and favorite! **


	25. Fifty Shades of Strangers

**Fifty Shades of Secrets**

**Chapter 25: Fifty Shades of Strangers**

* * *

**Anastasia Steele,**

"_Congratulations, you just sold your apartment!"_

Long after I left the realtor's office, it rang in my ears. At nine in the morning, I'd worked my way through midtown to finish the paperwork with Angela King, who made the process as painless as possible. But despite the copious amounts of coffee and intensely sweet donuts, I was left stunned. The final signature was anticlimactic. I'd hoped for a life-changing moment that would grant me clarity, but I was the same person, just minus one apartment.

What I didn't expect was the nagging nostalgia. On the train back to the office, I'd felt a rising panic than I would never climb that building's creaking stairs or return to my old borough. As I glanced around the crowd, I idly wondered how many of these people were going to the stop I used to call home. Things I'd never cared about suddenly felt integral to my life, including the oversized vanity in my bathroom I'd repeatedly banged my hip on. My stubborn lock was long gone, and the tiny Chinese restaurant a block away felt out of reach. By the time I got to my stop, my fear had escalated to an obsession.

In Manhattan, it was ridiculous to feel this way. Living in another borough didn't isolate me from the others or make them inaccessible, and moving from a one bathroom apartment to an amenity-filled, palatial residence was hardly a downgrade. Considering how long I'd lived in Christian's apartment without venturing back, the pull was clearly not as powerful as I thought. And if I ever wanted my old life back, there was no shortage of tiny apartments with nearby takeout in New York.

No matter how hard I tried to shift blame, the problem was _not_ the apartment. I'd established myself as an independent, capable mother and publisher behind that front door. I'd established myself in _New York_. I was approaching the situation as if I'd moved from the city entirely, not just an apartment. But honestly, I just had. By signing the paperwork, I'd let go of New York and left myself untethered to the East Coast. Without the Lewis Publishing and property to hold me down, I was free to move to Seattle imminently.

But the risk was on me. I was the one leaving my home, my job, and my comfort zone. If we crashed and burned like last time, my support system was miles away. Our relationship was rocky without sudden changes. I couldn't imagine what it would be like with them. I was vulnerable, and with our track record, I was bound to be hurt. The girl who always ran wouldn't have that option anymore.

In an effort to ditch my whiney melancholy, I decided to end homeowning days with a final night in the apartment with Teddy. As the new owner didn't take possession for another week, most of my things hadn't been packed up, so it was as close to home as it would ever be. I was determined to make it as cheesy and nostalgic as possible with a Shrek marathon, our favorite takeout, and as many fluffy blankets as possible.

Curtis, as much as he tried, couldn't contain his amusement. "Is that… a onesie?" Curtis practically bit his lip to avoid laughing, and I grabbed the fuzzy fabric from his hand. It wasn't the first time he'd laughed at my bag and, at this rate, I doubted the last. After learning about my plan, he'd found it adorable and offered his assistance, but the further we progressed, I couldn't tell if this offer stemmed from his desire to flirt with my nanny or entertainment at my expense.

"I enjoy lazy, slouchy pajamas," I explained, shoving it back in my overnight duffle.

"No wonder you were single for over two years," Curtis shrugged.

"You haven't worked up the courage to ask Essie out in a year," I reminded him, earning a glare. I'd been consumed with the Essie-Curtis saga for the same amount of time, throwing my frustrations of my own love life- or lack of one- on them. And just a few weeks with Christian had pushed it to the back of my mind. Though it was really none of my business, there was a twinge of sadness that I may not get to see the culmination. Curtis had done well as my assistant and could surely parlay it into a higher position, and Essie was still Teddy's nanny. I wouldn't see their casual flirtations, his desperate yearning, or the miraculous moment where Curtis actually did something about it.

Curtis opened his mouth for a witty rebuttal but closed it just as quickly when he heard a knock at my bedroom door. Naturally, Essie stood in the door frame, measuring just about half of the door's height. I'd vaguely noticed that she was dressed differently this morning, but with everything going on, I didn't realize the extent of it. The girl known for her converse collection and babydoll dresses was wearing a blazer, and her casual attitude was replaced with frustration from a long day.

"Are you okay?" I leaned against the wall, not sure what else to say. I'd never seen Essie like this and had no idea what it meant.

"Yeah, I got your text. You and Teddy are staying at the old place tonight?" Essie fumbled for her phone as if she was unsure she'd read it right.

"Yes, we are… I know it's your night off, so you can get off early if you want. I'll take him from here," I suggested. It didn't fit into the plan, but something had to be wrong with Essie. She'd been odd since we got back from Seattle, which was partially my fault. I'd been consumed with Christian and hadn't had required talks with Essie. At some point, she'd have to go to Seattle again, especially around Kate's upcoming wedding, and there was a move looming on the horizon that needed to be discussed.

"No, it's fine. I have a few more errands, and I know you have some things to get ready over there," Essie shoved the phone back in her pocket, "I'll bring Teddy over. I do need to talk to you tomorrow, so maybe after work?"

"We can talk now or tonight if something is wrong. _Is_ anything wrong?" I didn't expect the hesitation her expression.

"Everything's alright, really. Tomorrow is great. I should really get going with the kids. I need to get Wini home soon," Essie offered a smile, and just like that, she ducked out of the room.

I turned back to Curtis, hoping for an explanation. Curtis murmured, "No idea." An awkward pause ensued where Curtis traced the pattern of my duffle, either lost in thought or spellbound by the diamond shape. Finally, snapping back into it, Curtis checked his watch and looked back up at me, eager to go back to being my assistant instead of a puppy in love, "Your takeout is about ready. You should probably get over there, so I can wrap up here. I'll try talking to Essie later. Need me to do anything else?"

"No, I've got everything I need. You should go home and get some rest. Or don't go home and have fun," I scooped up the duffle, tucking the bag under my arm and pulling my hair into a ponytail in one drawn out motion, "I may be a little late tomorrow morning, so don't rush into the office."

Talking about the office was still strange. Though Scarlet hadn't announced the sale of _Lewis Publishing_, word spread through the cubicles like wildfire. Many approached it with disbelief while others instinctively jumped ship. Three editors had applied to other publishers in fear of their jobs, and one already accepted a position.

For years, my work was a haven from instability, but it was just as instable as the rest of it. As I hustled through Manhattan, I naively searched for meaning in every street corner. I expected reliability in an ever-changing city and got nothing in return. Even when I got to my favorite Chinese takeout restaurant, the woman behind the counter who had seen me every week for years didn't recognize me.

And, as I was standing in the corner of a restaurant filled with some of my favorite memories, I finally decided to call bullshit on nostalgia meaning stability. I loved my apartment. I loved New York. I loved the life I'd built with Teddy. Bust most of all, I loved Teddy and Christian. Teddy deserved a family and a life without constant jet lag, and Christian deserved someone who didn't run. My independence built on lies and rejection, and it had hurt everyone I cared about. So maybe there was nothing wrong with letting go.

Moving to the west coast wouldn't be some terrible event. I didn't suddenly become an unhappy, unqualified sub. I didn't have to adhere to ridiculous rules. I didn't have to give up working or do anything I didn't want to do. I was still me. Christian was still Christian. The only thing that changes was our proximity.

When I finally got my order (twenty minutes late, as usual), a weight had been lifted off my shoulders, and there was a pep in my step as I walked the remaining blocks to my building. The ride up to my floor was uneventful enough for me to fish out my keys and started to focus on bigger problems in life, like which animated movie came first in our marathon (my vote was _Shrek_, but Teddy's would be _Toy Story_). When I reached my front door, I shoved my key into the finicky lock and hoped for luck, but to my surprise the door put up know resistance. It was already unlocked…

"Angela must have forgotten the lock," I mumbled to myself, knowing that it was easy to leave the door unlocked if you didn't know how to do it right. So, I started to think about other things. Like if I should add a little bit of drizzled chocolate to the popcorn or smother it in butter. Or how my apartment would be just like old times when I got in.

And it _was_ like old times. There was the weathered bookshelf right at the entry, housing copies of books I hadn't read in years but couldn't bear to part with. Spare shoes were at the doormat in a half hazard tower. The sofa was still too large for the living room and the dining table crammed into the corner with an assortment of toddler-proof vases and pictures I'd accumulated to make the apartment home. And there was the…

The woman.

In my kitchen.

Wearing my clothes.

With…

_A knife. _

I froze. In that instant, I could hear my every breath and counted the creaks I'd made just coming from the front door. Her back was to me, seemingly unaware of my presence. The knife slowly dragged over the cabinets, deepening a horizontal line in the once spotless white while her free hand flicked through the pages of a hardly used recipe book. With my mind racing, I could only now make out the signs I'd missed when I walked in. Scratches littered my walls and kitchen. Pictures of me had another face crudely taped over them from behind the glass, a face so like my own that I couldn't tell the difference from a distance. The dishwasher was running. And it wasn't Angela King that left the door open. It was_ her_.

One step behind me. And another. I didn't even realize that I was trying to creep back, fighting the scream building in my throat. Just a few more steps.

In my horrified state, my eyes were strictly trained on her, praying she wouldn't move. Oh please don't let her move. They were so directed on her that the small, wet rainboots took my high heels by surprise, and the panic I'd pent up released as my balance started to slip. A screech filled the apartment as I fell back onto my ass, knocking my head on the plaster wall and sending my Chinese food into the air. General Tso's landed with a splat on my hardwood floors. And before I looked up, I knew she'd heard it.

She knew I was here.

I scrambled to get up, to get out of the apartment. But my shaky legs couldn't provide the traction to hold up on the slippery floor, and the strap on my shoes kept them firmly on my feet as I violently shook my feet to free me from four inches of hindrance. In an effort to get the shoes off, I'd twisted my ankle when the tip of the shoe got stuck. Wildly reaching for the door only made it slip out of my hands, and the more I failed, the more I panicked. I had to get out of here. I had to fucking get out of here. I couldn't hear anything over my pounding heart and the ensuing anxiety that accompanied it.

Through labored breaths and watering eyes, I watched the dark figure walk around my island, the knife dragging on the butcherblock. And it was like looking at an appalling version of myself. Her frame, while similar, was weak, and the skin exposed on her arms showed deep, self-inflicted scars. Her unwashed dark hair had been crudely cut into the same cut I'd sported in most of the pictures on the wall, an awkward stage of growing out my bangs and wearing it in a frizzy ponytail. I recognized my dress from my closet and the high heel shoes that were practically falling off her small feet. But most of all, I recognized _her_. I'd seen her in the coffee shop, reaching for my cup of coffee. She'd followed me to LP, and she'd been living in my apartment as me.

"Who are you?" my voice cracked, pushing myself further into the wall. A tentative, fake smile weakly sat on my face in an attempt to keep her calm.

"An-ah-stay-sha Steele," she sounded the word out, offering me a smile that made every hair stand on edge. She thinks she's me. Holy fuck.

"Are you alone?" I pushed as casually as possible, desperate to know if Essie had faced the same ambush with Teddy.

Without a word, she stepped closer, and she tilted her head, the expression morphing into that of confusion and apathy. "Alone." The word was slow, and she repeated it, "Alone…" The strength of the word was clear, and I regretted saying it. I could never think of 'alone' without hearing the gut-wrenching sadness in her and the fright in me.

"Is there anyone else in the apartment?" my fingers turned white with the force of me grabbing onto the ancient, heavy bookshelf anchored to my wall. As I pulled myself up, I could feel the distress in my ankle and forced my weight to the other. She watched me the whole time, tilting her head as she saw me stand.

With a glance over her shoulder at my seemingly empty apartment, she whispered, "All alone."

The relief forces tears from my eyes, which I quickly tried to swipe away. And that was when she truly scared me. All at once, her posture straightened into a steel rod, staring me down with focused eyes. The knife, which had been hanging at her side, raised towards me.

"Sad. I'm sad," her grip tightened on the knife, "Why you? What do you have that I don't?"

"What do you mean?" I swallowed.

"Master Grey. You call him by his given name," the venom in her voice echoed through the kitchen.

Christian. This is about Christian. She must have been one of his fifteen…

"I do," I agreed, wondering how she knew that. How did she even know about me? How did she know Christian? Oh God, did she know about Teddy?

"You sleep in his bed." Holy shit. _How_ did she know that? "You are a submissive. Master doesn't let submissive in his bed."

"I'm not a submissive," I whispered carefully. She knew about Christian's lifestyle. She'd been in the Red Room. She must have been one of his fifteen. "I am…inadequate to fill that role."

"Inadequate." The word was rushed, full of intensity, but intensity of what? Relief? Happiness? Anger? Was stabbing an emotion?

"Would you like some tea?"

What the fuck, Ana? I offered her some fucking tea. What was I thinking?

The girl shook her head from side to side in an unnatural, eerie motion.

"_I_ am Anastasia Steele. I am in his bed. He smiles at me. That is our baby," the girl insisted. She used the knife to point to a photo on the wall of newborn Teddy, and my pity evaporated.

"I am Anastasia Steele. Now who are you?" I was forceful this time. The rational side of me urged me to play along, to call her Ana. To get out of that door and run before that kitchen knife was inside of me. But I couldn't. My feet were frozen, and I was angry as hell.

"Master is dark," she whispers as if to herself, "But I love him. I-I will be Leila Grey. Gah-rey."

_No_ is all I can think. No, he isn't. No, she doesn't. And no way in hell she will.

"Leila, do you want to give me the knife?" I insist, carefully offering my hand towards her shaking grip. Her finger traded the edge of the blade, forcing drops of blood to splatter on the floor, and she quickly shook her head.

"This will join us," the phrase was vague, and while I couldn't get in her head, I could understand enough to know that it didn't mean anything good. It was only a matter of time before the blood on the floor is my own, and I couldn't let that happen. Teddy could be here any minute if I didn't find a way to keep them from coming, and if she turned that knife on me, my precious baby would be without a mother.

"I know what I have that you don't. I can tell you. Then we'll be the same," I swallowed, praying the gamble would pay off. Leila's eyes filled with hope, earning a fleeting fit of sympathy. She took an eager step closer. She thought she was walking into her dream, the way she'd be the one in the pictures. And she was walking into my escape.

"I read."

The confusion was momentary, but in fairness, I couldn't see much of her face as I gripped onto my copy of _War and Peace_ and watched fourteen hundred pages get shoved in her terrifying face. Her hands were faster than I anticipated, and I screamed as the sharpened blade sliced across my arm, tearing my shirt to reveal the blood oozing from my forearm. The force of book's impact pushed her to the floor, and she landed on her back with an unsavory thud. The knife scratched at the hardwood floors as it landed a few feet away from her, and I grabbed the largest books I could find, throwing them at her to keep her from reaching the knife before me.

_Yes!_ My grip on the knife turned my knuckles white, and I fervently grabbed my front door, throwing it open with such speed I thought the wood might crack when it hit the wall. I was nearly out of the door when I felt something tug on my injured ankle. I yelled with the pain, holding onto the door to keep from falling.

"You _stole_ him. You stole my life. You don't deserve Master!" Leila's nails started to dig into skin.

"You threatened my kid, you fucking bitch!" I delivered a hard kick to her face and cringed at the sickening crack afterward. She screamed and let go of my ankle, and once in the hall, I pulled off my heels and threw them at the door of the apartment, hoping that it would give me more time to get out. I frantically pressed the button for the elevator, but when I heard her distant grown, I abandoned it and ran to the other end of the hallway and shoved the heavy door to the stairs open. I sprinted down the stairs, adrenaline keeping me going.

I didn't know what to do. I didn't know who to call. I didn't even know what just happened.

At the landing for the second floor, I saw a familiar face.

Taylor? _Taylor_.

"Miss Steele?" Taylor's reserved nature was replaced with concern and confusion, and I rushed to him, hardly able to form a coherent sentence. His eyes drifted to the bloody knife in my hand.

"She's-She's up there," the words choked on panic, "Leila. She was in my apartment. She cut me. I-I threw a book at her. She's in my apartment. Help me."

"Leila?" Taylor knew her name, which surprised me. I nodded urgently, leaning against the wall to collect my breath. I couldn't help but look at the top of the stairs, waiting to see her tiny frame barreling for me. Taylor placed a comforting hand on my shoulder and another over my hand, carefully working the knife out of my fist. "Come with me. I'll take care of it. Let's just get you out."

"But she's in my apartment-" I pointed up, every limb shaking with panic, but he didn't look up. He looked at my arm, which was still dripping crimson.

"You're injured," Taylor was surprised, "Do you have others? How bad are they?"

I had to close my mind to remember them through the panic. My ankle was hurt but not badly, and while I was sore, nothing had been broken in the fall. But my arm…. "I, um, fell. Nothing feels broken. But she cut me," I offered my arm for proof, though I knew he'd already seen it. After a quick survey, he seemed both revolted and relieved.

"Anastasia, I'm taking you home," he wrapped his coast around my shoulder, "You're alright. Someone will take care of this immediately." As I looked into his eyes, I realized that this was his means of comfort. And he was comforting me because he was right. He had to be right. She wasn't coming down the stairs and slitting my throat with a butter knife from my dishwasher. It was really over.

Standing by my side, Taylor guided me down the last level of stairs to an exit door I'd never seen before, and his car was waiting. After carefully seating me in the passenger seat, Taylor rolled through Manhattan, dodging traffic until I couldn't see my building in the rearview mirror.

* * *

**Who saw THAT coming? I've been planning this for a while and really wanted it to come out of the blue for the reader and for Ana, which I think it did. My experience isn't with scenes like this, so forgive me that it isn't the best. How do you think Christian will react? Was this a good surprise?**

**Now, I am so sorry I didn't get this out sooner! I wanted to publish this before the holidays, but the last month has been really crazy and put me behind. I think that the surprise element for this chapter makes up for the wait. I was going to include the after-effects of Leila, but the first draft was nearly 8,000 words. So I broke it down into two.**

**I hope you had happy holidays! As always, please review, follow, and favorite!**

**PS. We made it to 25 chapters! Woohoo!**


	26. Fifty Shades of Aftermath

_**Fifty Shades of Secrets**_

**Chapter 26: Fifty Shades of Aftermath**

* * *

**Anastasia Steele,**

I hissed as Dr. Brandt swiped another layer of antiseptic on my sliced forearm, an unfortunate reminder of my blurry afternoon. Brandt's impeccable bedside manner put me at ease after getting back to Christian's apartment, even if he did devote twenty minutes to twisting and testing my aching ankle. His pearly white smile coaxed me into a sense of security, so I minimized my whining just to hold onto it.

"Good news, Miss Steele. No stiches are needed," he reassured me, "Once we bandage you up, you can get some much-needed rest. While I see no signs of broken bones, I'd feel safer with x-rays to prove it. Tomorrow morning, I'd like it if you came to the office for some tests and to go over your further care. I have already called in some pain medication, nothing too strong but enough to ease your discomfort."

"Thanks," I tried to politely smile, despite the stinging in my arm.

I didn't want to think about the bill attached to Dr. Brandt's emergency visit to Christian's apartment. As soon as Taylor got me through the front door, Dr. Brandt was waiting politely in the living room, and with Taylor's help, he escorted me to the master bedroom and began to evaluate my post-psycho state. I didn't know who called the doctor or where Taylor went afterwards.

Then again, I didn't know anything about today.

I didn't know anything about Leila except for (presumably) her name and her relationship with Christian. I didn't know how she knew me or the details of my sleeping arrangements. I didn't know what happened to her after I left my building. I didn't know why Taylor left so quickly or why he was there in the first place. Hell, I didn't know if Leila got away, which was a terrifying thought.

When I pushed Taylor for details, he offered me a glass of water and another blanket, and ultimately, he disappeared altogether. I'd expected him to push me in return. I thought that, by now, I would have recounted my story until I was blue in the face. Why I hadn't was a mystery, but I rationalized that I deserved time to process. And I wondered if my allotted processing time had more to do with Christian's absence than my emotional wellbeing.

But I didn't _want_ time to process. I was already thinking too much about it. When the haze of excitement and terror settled, the reality came into focus. Teddy could have been there before me. If Essie had accepted my offer and left early, I would have walked into that apartment with Teddy. At minimum, he could have been dropped like our dinner as I fell. Leila could have injured him or worse. She could have killed me and left my son motherless. She could have killed Christian. She could have killed herself in the middle of my kitchen. Or maybe she wouldn't have anything without me provoking her. I might have pushed her to violence. Until I attacked her, that blade never touched me, and maybe if I'd remained calm and sensible, it never would have. But how could I expected to keep calm like that?

With too many possibilities, it was hard to focus in on what did happen, and I found myself obsessing until I finally accepted it. I let my guard down and found a mentally unstable, armed woman in my apartment. There thousands of questions to be asked. Why was Taylor there? Did she get away? Who the fuck was Leila? It was ugly, and I was unprepared. But I had to live with it. I had to cope and understand it to the best of my ability. But in all honestly, I just wanted to back a few hours to when my largest worry was Essie's odd behavior and which cartoon to watch first.

"Okay, that should be it," Dr. Brant squeezed my knee carefully, a gesture that would have been reassuring had I not bruised my knee earlier. "You have my card, and I left my contact information with your assistant. Do not hesitate to call me should you need to, and remember, I expect bed rest. It would be wise for you to stay home when possible and particularly avoid high heels with that ankle."

"How strict of bedrest?" I asked, dreading the answer. I didn't want to be confined to a bed with my thoughts and minor injuries to keep me company. I wanted to go check on Teddy, who I'd painfully avoided. I'd called Essie from the car in a fit of panic and had probably scared her half to death after I ordered she keep Teddy away from the old apartment and take him home.

Since then, I'd been assured that Teddy was safe, but despite his proximity, I stayed in bed. I didn't want him to see me battered and bleeding, but now that I was bandaged and feeling stable, I _needed_ to be with Teddy. I didn't care if everyone assured me he was alright. I was his mother and needed to see it with my own eyes.

"As I said, working from home would be best. Sparingly get up, Miss Steele. If you do have a fracture, excessive movement may further your discomfort," I could tell he didn't trust me to stay in bed, and I didn't blame him. I'd been practically begging to get up since I sat down.

"I'll keep that in mind," I didn't want to lie, so I just smiled.

With a final unconvinced smile, Dr. Brant collected his supplies and left, and once his footsteps faded down the hall, I was alone for the first time in hours. Without Curtis over my shoulder or Brandt prodding my injuries, I stumbled out of bed. My ankle, while sore, was strong enough to get me across the room with minimum bitching. But that didn't stop me from blanching at my reflection in the full-length mirror.

Blood irrevocably stained my white shirt, and what wasn't covered in dirt from my fall was defiled by sweat. When the clothes were off, the forming bruises turned me into a patchwork quilt of black and blue. My cheeks were pink with effort and blotchy from tears. I was one big mess that was desperate for a shower, and after I got the water nice and scalding, I stood under the heat and washed the afternoon off. I scrubbed until the memories faded or my skin ran out of layers, whichever came first.

No matter how tempting my bed was, I was determined to get dressed, shove my hair into a ponytail, and get to Teddy. Surprisingly, the apartment was seemingly empty. The halls were void of Curtis's panicked phone calls and Taylor's silent enforcement. Nonetheless, I found myself creeping through the hallway, practically on my tippy toes. I feared running into someone aware of my bedrest orders and being nagged into further rest.

Even though I could hear giggles behind Teddy's bedroom door, the panic mounted in my chest until my heart nearly stopped as I waited for the door to fully open. And there he was… Perfectly happy, perfectly alright, and perfectly Teddy.

"Mommy!" Teddy abandoned his toy train set when he saw me, and he promptly sprinted into my arms. Whether from the pain meds, the adrenaline drop, or the fall, I grunted with the effort of picking him up.

"My baby boy," I smoothed his hair, hugging him as close to me as possible. I took a deep breath of my wonderful, apple-juice-scented son and blocked out everything but him. Leila hadn't hurt him. Fuck, she hadn't even seen him in person, yet there was still an elephant sitting on my chest, terrified and reminding me to not let my guard down ever again. Pulling away, I looked at Teddy and traced a heart on his chubby cheek, "You've had a good day?"

Teddy's eager nod sent his curls flying as he explained, "We went to the library!"

"Wes, we did," Essie's squeaky voice surprised me, making me clutch Teddy closer instinctively. When I looked up, Essie was sitting on the edge of Teddy's rocking chair, her foot tapping in a fury of nervous energy. Understandably, she was shaken, and regrettably, she was terrible at hiding it. At least I could surmise that another rendition of the story was unnecessary. Before I could attempt a response, Essie launched into it, "You called and said to not take him to the apartment, and I didn't know what to do. So, we went to the library. Then, that guy-Taylor, I think- ordered me to come here, and he told me… Well, did that all really happen?"

Essie was a jumble of emotions, and I wasn't sure I'd ever been so mad at her.

"Thank you for taking care of him, Essie," I kissed Teddy's forehead, "Yes, it did, but everything is good now. I'm sorry you had to stay so late. I promise, overtime." Part of me hoped she'd bolt at the first chance so I could focus exclusively on Teddy, but guilt or distress - or maybe a paycheck-bound her to her chair.

"You're… okay?" Essie was stunned by my response, and for a moment, I felt guilty for being so livid. Despite her inappropriately real response, she was concerned, but I didn't want concern. I just didn't want Teddy to know.

And his big, blue eyes filled with alarm as he looked up at me, and the guilt evaporated. Resisting the urge to glare at Essie for peaking his interest, I focused on Teddy, "Of course, Mommy is okay. I pinky promise," I offered my pinky and beamed as his tiny little finger wrapped around mine.

"But-" Essie didn't want to give up, and I wanted to kill her.

"_Essie_, it's all good. We can talk about the apartment later. Right now, why don't we talk about that thing you brought up earlier?" I insisted a bit more forcefully, carefully putting Teddy down.

"Maybe tomorrow," Essie murmured, "I can stay the night if you need me. You probably need some sleep. I'm… I'm gonna grab some water."

I nodded agreement and took a deep breath when she finally left Teddy's bedroom. I wanted to screw the bed rest orders, but holy hell, I was tired. I sat on the edge of Teddy's toddler bed and disguised my exhaustion with a smile convincing enough for a two-year-old. "Did you have fun at the library?"

It was clearly the right question because he nodded so fast I thought his curls would fly off his head, and he practically sprinted over to his _Thomas the Train _backpack. Even as I watched him, I couldn't shake the fear and reminded myself of the positive outcomes to force it away. Teddy didn't know about Leila and never needed to, and he was fine. Sure, he was getting close to bedtime but was fine. The finality of tonight refused to settle in. Fuck, how could it not be final?

" I got a book!" Teddy interrupted my whiny inner monologue with a color children's book, one of the few we hadn't read together. We'd combed through almost every children's book in a tristate area, but Teddy was forever eager for more (and just as eager to stay up past his bedtime to finish it)..

With Teddy under my arm, I relaxed as much as possible in Teddy's tiny toddler bed and started to read. He was entranced with the tale of Mr. Puppykins and Ms. Kittystein and their scavenger hunt to the party Mrs. Hamsterving planned in the park, and I was just as captivated by him. Just as Mr. Puppykins found the ice cream party waiting for them, someone interrupted us.

"_Hello?"_

Holy shit. Christian.

"Daddy!" Teddy jumped out of bed gracefully, running out of his bedroom to the source of the voice. I, on the other hand, fell off of the bed and broke my fall with an oversized teddy bear. Abandoning the book, I followed Teddy down the hallway to the entryway. And there he was.

The mercurial man. Anger, surprise, and a multitude of emotions swirled in his grey eyes, and for once, I didn't want to decipher them. I just wanted him _here_, and he was really here. There were no complications to impede or no unnecessary power struggles. And I'd never loved him more.

"Anastasia." One word, and I couldn't hold back. I didn't care he was already holding Teddy, who I wanted to treat like glass. I didn't care about his rules. I didn't care about anything other than the protection his grasp offered. For once, I wanted to be the girl Christian took care of, and I only melted further when he whispered, "Are you alright?"

_No_.

"Yes," I nodded cautiously, "I will be."

Even as I said it, I knew it wasn't the right answer for Christian.

"At least Teddy wasn't there," Christian's remarks should have comforted me, but… how did he know that? Right, Taylor would have called him.

"He wasn't…" I agreed. Ice prickled at my skin, urging me to pay attention. Taylor could have told him the circumstances, of course, and I was sure he had. But it would have been one hell of a coincidence for Taylor to casually be in my apartment building (which was hundreds of miles from his home and employer) and happen to be present when a psychopath broke into my apartment.

Christian turned silent, and I followed his gaze to the bruise peeking out of my tee shirt. He placed another protective kiss to my forehead and squeezed my hip. "Mommy and I need to talk, and you need a bath, young man."

Teddy pouted after the bath announcement, and Christian was smart enough not to put him down before Essie could take him. If Essie hadn't been holding him, Teddy would have taken off through the apartment in search of a hiding place to avoid the big, bad bathtub.

For hours, I'd waited for Christian to arrive, but now that he was here, I realized that my expectations were undefined. Was I supposed to launch into the horrific details? Was I supposed to ask questions and satisfy my many building curiosities? Was I supposed to stay silent and just revel in his comforting presence? I wanted to do them all and none of them at the same time. The only thing I could firmly decide on was that I needed him here.

"Are you alright?" Christian repeated the question and looked at me as if I were glass, sympathetically placing a hand on my cheek and searching my expression. He was treating me just as I was treating Teddy, though with different goals. I didn't want Teddy to have to talk about it, but Christian wanted me to.

"Yes," I nodded, "Sore. Fair warning, my body has turned an unflattering shade of purple." Humor. I picked humor to cope and delivered it with lighthearted, friendly sarcasm. But I'd started to shake. I was like a terrified Chihuahua in Christian's arms, waiting for Leila to pop back up and ruin my life.

_She knew I slept in Christian's bed…_ I quickly chastised myself for the reminder and thought of every lock and security guard Leila would have to get past to have seen us in bed. It had to be an assumption. Perhaps she'd always wanted to sleep in his bed and manifested that dream onto me.

"You're a terrible liar, Anastasia," a smile prickled at Christian's lips.

"Are you asking for proof of my purple body? If so, I'm not sure that's what the doctor meant when he told me to stay in bed," I was relieved that Christian wanted to play along, but by the slightest shake of his head, I knew he didn't.

"I don't doubt your new skin color, though I do doubt anything could _unflatter_ you, Miss Steele. You are not alright, and you don't have to be," Christian was remarkably calm as he wrapped me in the tightest hug I could imagine, and while nestled into his sports coat, I listened to his pounding heartbeat and realized the illusion. Christian wasn't calm, and this hug wasn't just for me. His lips brushed along the top of my ear as he whispered, "Now, did I hear something about violated bedrest orders?"

Shit.

"I'm not going to bed. I need to be with Teddy. He-He could have been there, Christian. Teddy was supposed to walk in with me. She knew who he was. She could have hurt him," I buried myself further into Christian's chest, and his hand traced the curve of my back as he listened. When I peeked him at him, I saw the familiar expression of deep concern, and through his eyes, I could understand what everyone else saw when they looked at me.

I wasn't me. This wasn't me. I was a nervous, traumatized wreck that was seemingly on the edge. The slightest push could tip me in either direction, launching me into God-Knows-What. Not only was I made of glass, I was already showing fucking cracks. PTSD had me cowering in my own living room.

"Bed," Christian whispered, the worry growing stronger by the moment.

"Only for a little bit," my weak body betrayed me. The idea of standing up for too much longer made my muscles ache, and I reasoned that a small nap wouldn't do any harm.

There was something pathetic and heartwarming about Christian helping me back to the master bedroom. I hated the idea of not being able to take care of myself (and that Christian might be right about fractures being a strong possibility), but I loved that he wanted to help me. When my pace slowed, Christian's insistence on carrying me to bed was romantic and incredibly hard to deter. In fact, the only way I could prevent him throwing me over his shoulder was to talk.

"Thank you for coming," I blurted out.

Christian stopped in his tracks, knitting his eyebrows together in genuine offence. "Anastasia, how could I not come?"

"I didn't mean it like that," I clarified, feeling like an idiot, "I just need you here. I love you." Damn it, was that the wrong thing to say, too? My mind was too scattered to think of social cues, especially when Christian was hard to read even with full focus.

"I love you, too," Christian's kiss was everything I needed. It was passionate and deep and loving and really made me reconsider not showing him the rest of my bruised skin. I didn't realize how much I needed to feel him. Sex was our coping mechanism, and I really needed to cope…He didn't let me dwell on it for long, forcing me through the bedroom door and directing me to the bed. In an act of defiance, I sat on the chaise lounge instead, knowing I'd try to get him naked if we got too close to the bed.

"Stubborn as hell, Miss Steele." Christian shook his head, hiding his frustration behind a smile.

"Christian, you don't have to do that," I tugged at a loose string on a nearby blanket, avoiding eye contact, "Being honest with me won't make me shatter, I promise."

"Are you implying that I am lying?" Christian moved closer, and for a moment, I thought I saw guilt in his eyes.

"No," I chewed on my lower lip, "But I don't want everyone to tiptoe around me."

Christian's relief was unsettling. "You've been through a lot today."

There it was. The invitation to talk about it. Shit.

"Leila…" my teeth dug further into my lower lip, "She… She was so…" I couldn't find the words. She was terrifying. She was out of her mind. She was really the shattered one. There were a million questions, but now that he was standing here, I didn't know how to ask them.

"I know," Christian crouched to his knees so that we were eye-to-eye, "She's very disturbed, Anastasia, but I can assure you that you're safe now. Theodore is safe, and you don't need to worry. But you do need to get in bed, Anastasia. Dr. Flynn has suggested you focus on your recovery, both mentally and physically."

He talked about me to Dr. Flynn? When the hell did he have the time?

"How do you know?" I pushed, "About Leila, I mean. That she won't come back."

"It's been taken care of, Ana. Now, please, bed," Christian held out his hand for me to stand, and I hesitantly followed his lead, but before I could get to bed, I stopped.

"But how was it taken care of? Christian, she could have gotten away. Taylor found me in the hall, and he just left with me. Why did he do that?" panic started to seep into my words, "Why was Taylor there? You have to admit it's one hell of a coincidence."

"Ana-" Christian's irritation pressed through his calm exterior. Why was he so determined to not answer me?

"I get it. You've only been in town for a little bit and have a lot to process, but so do I. Why won't you tell me?" I demanded.

Christian's expression shifted into guilt as I mentioned his short time in New York, and I instinctively pulled my hand away.

"You _didn't_ just get in, did you?" I felt betrayed and waited for his answer, hoping for denial, but he didn't deny.

"No, I didn't, and you really should be in bed, Anastasia," Christian persisted.

"When did you get in?" I didn't let him change the subject. How could he have been in New York and not checked in until now, several hours later? Naively, I'd assumed that the man who would disregard work and fly across the country when I was angry would make the same effort when something _bad_ happened. I wasn't asking why he didn't make a party or was a few minutes late to dinner. I wanted to know what kept him from his son and, well,… me.

"A few hours ago."

"Hours?" I repeated, "And you _just_ came here? What could have possibly kept you?"

Silence.

Fuck. It was something serious. I'd hoped he had a shitty traffic excuse or bum cell signal that threw his day off, but it was something real.

"I had something to take care of, Anastasia. Now get to bed," Christian's voice was more forceful as he tried to change the subject, and I felt a nagging pit in my stomach start to grow. He'd said that Leila was 'taken care of.'

"Christian, _where_ were you?" my voice was softer compared to his, void of my previous frustration. I silently begged him not to say he was there, that he was with _her_.

Christian raked his fingers through his hair, exasperation with me mounting. "I've been in New York since this afternoon. Taylor believed he had found something we were looking for, and I was preoccupied with that until now. I was told you were alright and that Teddy was safe. Otherwise, I would have come immediately.."

_Something_. It wasn't a something. Why the fuck wasn't he saying it?

"Taylor was in my apartment building. I found him on the staircase when I was running away. The something you were looking for… You've been with her, haven't you?" the words hung in the air, and I silently begged him to say no. He couldn't have been with her…. She tried to kill me in my apartment. She made threats against Theodore and even Christian. She was a fucking lunatic wearing my clothing and pretending she was me.

"Leila is sick, Anastasia. She was not in a good state after you left. She needed to be talked down before she did something terrible, to be…" Christian paused, "taken care of. I needed to see she'd be looked after properly. She needs help." He treated it as if he was telling me about a kid with cancer, not a fucking psychopath. What the fuck?

"After I left? You mean p escaped. She was living in my apartment, Christian. She told me that she was Anastasia Steele while waving around my knife. She had seen us together, knew I called you by your first name. She's been fucking stalking me. Yes, I am perfectly aware she is not in a good state, but don't treat her like a God damn puppy!" I was furious, "She threatened all of us. Not just you or me, but Teddy. She fucking cut me," I shoved my injured arm to him as proof.

"You broke her nose," Christian was… reproaching me?

"Good. She nearly killed me, so I think we're even," I shook my head, my jaw tightening, "What the fuck is happening here? Your ex-sub comes in my apartment, threatens to kill me so she can become _Mrs. Fucking Leila Grey_, and you are mad at me because I broke her nose to make sure I got out?"

Christian was exasperated with me. I couldn't believe this. I didn't expect to be praised for emptying out my home library on her face, but I didn't expect to be reprimanded for it either. I thought Christian would be livid on my behalf and as frightened as I was. I thought I could go home with him to Seattle for a little bit and hide out until the memories faded enough for me to walk into Starbucks without worrying if someone is planning my murder, but now I wanted to plan Christian's.

"I didn't say that, Anastasia-"

"No, but you do seem a whole lot more concerned with your ex-girlfriend than the person she could have killed! What is it about her? Maybe you have a thing for stalkers, but I thought that you might care about me just a little bit more. You know, just out of pity for me if anything," I brushed past him, too livid to look in his fucking face anymore, "So, what? You clearly knew to look for her and that she might be in my apartment, so you were just going to keep this a secret? I don't know, it might have been nice if you'd mentioned this to me at literally any point."

"Leila has been unstable for years, yes, so we knew to look for her. It was only this morning that Taylor traced her to your apartment, Anastasia," Christian clearly hated having to explain himself, "She'd had incidents before but was doing better until a few months ago when she dropped off of the map. Taylor has looking for her, yes, but it wasn't like I was calling around personally."

"No, but you did covertly fly into New York and stay with her after everything happened. If it wasn't personal enough for you to look, it didn't have to be personal enough for you to go give her a nice chat."

"I didn't give her a nice chat. Anastasia, this is ridiculous. You are understandably upset and need rest. We can continue this conversation after you've slept," Christian even started to pull the sheets back.

"It _is_ ridiculous. I am jealous of a woman who pointed a knife at me and told me that _my_ son is her baby. I've spent this entire afternoon trying to hide this from Teddy when, for a while there, I wasn't sure if I would ever get to see him again. You know, Teddy was supposed to meet me there. We were going to have an adorable night of cartoons and Chinese food because I'd decided I was going to Seattle," I watched as his face softened and fought the tears prickling at my eyes, "He could have gotten there first. That knife could have been in his face. Think of everything she could have done when he didn't go along with her demented view of _your_ family."

"Ana," he began, but I wasn't going to let him finish.

"But while I was thinking about our family and trying to take care of our son, _you_ were coddling that bitch. You know, when I was trying to calm her down, I told her I was inadequate to be your sub, and clearly you must think so if you ran to her. Because you made it obvious that being a dom means more to you than being here," it was harsh, but in that moment, I wanted to be harsh. I wanted him to be as hurt as I was, "So you know what? Fuck this. Fuck all of it. Go back to Seattle by yourself."

Restraining my tears was impossible, so I did the best next thing. I started towards the door.

"_No_, Anastasia, you're not running, are you?" the panic in his voice was heartbreaking, heartwarming, and infuriating all at the same time. He was afraid I was going to leave. Was I going to leave? I didn't know… I couldn't form an answer for what felt like an eternity, searching myself to find the depth of my hurt.

Finally, I stopped at the door and managed, "No. But I am sleeping in Theodore's room. I am going to watch Shrek with him because I promised, and you are not going to breathe a word of any of this to him."

Christian tried to say something as I left, but I wasn't there to listen.

* * *

**Christian Grey**,

Anastasia wouldn't speak to me. I was only allowed in the room because Ana didn't want Theodore to know we were fighting. But being in the room was the extent of the kindness. I was relegated to the desk on the edge of living room, getting my only view of my family over my laptop. On the rare occasion that she looked at me, I was a monster. In her eyes, I'd picked her assailant over her, and the more time elapsed, I wondered if she was right.

When Taylor alerted me that he found Leila in New York, I was terrified. I wanted the situation to be neutralized as efficiently as possible, so Taylor flew out at nine am. Due to work commitments, I couldn't leave for a few more hours, and when the plane landed, the news was horrific. Yes, Leila had been accurately located in New York, but she had reportedly living as Anastasia for weeks. And Anastasia was the one who found her first, not Taylor.

For years, Leila had been a major concern. A few years ago, she'd left her husband and lost her lover, and according to her psychiatrist, news of my relationship with Anastasia triggered her meltdown. Trying to grab my attention, she'd attempted suicide in front of Gail Jones and disappeared again. It took months to detect Leila and get her into proper care, and for a year, she'd been stable. She was deemed healthy enough to return to normal life, and I'd set her up in art school in San Diego, hoping the distance would help her healing. And for a while, I thought it had. Leila began a relationship with a museum curator and was ecstatic to announce her pregnancy. So, when contact ended, it seemed like a natural progression into her independence.

Then, three months ago, her mother called. She hadn't heard from Leila in weeks and hoped that I knew something, so I assigned Taylor to work on it. Still, I had hope that Leila was fine. Our relationship didn't work, much to her disappointment, but I cared about her safety and happiness. The more Taylor found, the more that hope diminished. She'd lost the baby, left the boyfriend, dropped out of art school, and moved away in one swoop. Taylor tracked her to her brief stint in Atlanta and lost her in Boston.

When Taylor told me that he felt like he found her in New York, I knew what it meant. The cycle repeated. Just as seeing a photo of my relationship devastated her after the loss of hers, seeing a photo of me with my son tormented her after losing her own. The ending had to be ugly, but even with realistic expectations, nothing prepared me for what Leila had done.

She hurt Ana. She wanted to hurt me. She wanted to hurt my son. She wanted to destroy my family. And maybe, in blind concern, I let her.

Taylor ended the situation before it could escalate. Leila cut Anastasia, and Ana broke her nose. But neither were seriously injured, which I considered a stroke of luck. Knowing what Leila was capable of, Taylor ordered backup that handled Leila as he took Anastasia home. Ana wasn't in a state to go home alone and needed a familiar face, not an unknown security guard. He stayed with her until she was comfortable with the doctor and her assistant, Curtis.

Then Taylor called me, and in the backseat of a car, I had to decide. Was I going to Anastasia to comfort her after she'd been through hell because of my past? Or was I going to calm Leila and resolve the stand-off as she threatened suicide in Anastasia's apartment? And I picked the latter. In my mind, I'd tackled the larger problem. My family, while distraught, was safe. Leila was a loose cannon, threatening to take a life.

But I'd underestimated the scene in New York. Anastasia wasn't bulletproof and was clearly suffering from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, and when pressured, our base issues flourished. At the most basic level, I'd picked someone over her. When hell broke loose, I came to her bedside second. And Ana was in this hell because of me.

Leila was my former sub. She was in Anastasia's apartment because Ana was connected to me. Anastasia was injured because of me. Teddy was endangered because of me. Everything she was going through had a direct link to me. She had every right to hate me. But even if she deserved to, I hoped she didn't. The shower was just as real as Leila's knife, but Anastasia didn't want to see me.

Only a few hours ago, Anastasia wanted to go back to Seattle with me. It was everything I always wanted, and I fucked it up. Mentally, I relived the day, searching for the correct sequence of actions that would have prevented this, but even if I had the perfect way to reduce my idiocy, I couldn't go back. I just had to hope that Anastasia would talk to me again and that I'd be less of a jackass when she did.

When I peeked over my computer screen, credits rolled on the television screen, signaling the end of their movie night. Teddy, despite being obviously tired, danced along to the remaining soundtrack while Anastasia turned off the movie. The quiet was deafening without an animated film filling the room, and my patience was wearing thin on the silent treatment.

"It's time for bed, Teddy," Anastasia's eyes purposefully avoided my gaze, "And someone needs to brush their teeth."

Teddy pouted, and when he toddled over to me, I was shocked. For a moment, I'd started to think that I was invisible.

"Goodnight, Daddy," Teddy held up his arms, so I carefully pulled him up into my lap. I understood why Anastasia was so careful around him. More than anyone, I knew the level of her psychosis. Leila was dangerous and had access to the most precious thing in the world to me, Theodore.

"Goodnight, Teddy," I kissed the top of his head, his wild curls still wet from his bath, "I love you."

Teddy planted a big kiss on my cheek, and while I was smiling like an idiot, he jumped off of my lap and started his walk to his bedroom down the hall. Anastasia paused, looking over her shoulder to look at me, and my heart stopped. Hope built in my chest, urging her to end the silence and talk to me.

"I've never seen Shrek. Surprisingly good," I spoke up first, blurting out the first thing I thought of.

Anastasia watched me for a moment, and finally she just offered a tiny small, "Goodnight, Christian. See you in the morning."

_Oh_. The rejection left me speechless, and her commitment was infuriating.

"Goodnight, Anastasia."

Watching her walk in the opposite direction of our room, I realized how much I needed her in the bed beside me. She kept the darkness at bay, but I may not ever have her in my bed again. The longer she was gone, the more I needed her. I was going after her, but my computer interrupted me. And yet again, I accidentally picked Leila over Anastasia.

_Ping_.

**To: Christian Grey**

**Subject: Arrangements Settled**

**From: Dr. John Flynn**

**Miss Leila Williams is settled in a mental institution in upstate New York. I've just gotten off the phone with her psychiatrist, and they plan to relocate her as you have requested once she is stable. A colleague of mine works at a respected institution in Maine where she will receive care and eventually reach recovery while maintaining distance from your family. **

**Please tell Anastasia that I wish her well. As your friend, I insist you spend time in New York. I'm sure you and Anastasia need time together now.**

**-Flynn**

I closed the email without a response. He'd have a field day if he knew how I'd royally screwed the day, tracing my ill-guided actions to some deeper struggle, but for one night, I wanted pardon from being told I was innocent. Because I'm not. I never am. Anastasia finally saw me in my true form, a monster.

* * *

**Another surprise! I wanted to reimagine the events of Fifty Shades Darker. I felt like Leila would cause more damage, Christian would still feel an obligation to Leila, and that Anastasia would have a very different reaction because the stakes were a lot higher. This chapter is crazy long (the longest in the story, actually), and I debated turning it into two but ended up just sending it out so the reader could have the full story. So, tell me what you think about this twist!**

**This is definitely not an easy road for Christian and Anastasia, so be prepared for twists and turns.**

**As always, please favorite, follow, and review. And happy belated New Year! **


	27. Fifty Shades of Unforgiveness

_**Fifty Shades of Secrets**_

**Chapter 27: Fifty Shades of **

**Anastasia Steele,**

Sitting across the breakfast table from Christian Grey was, in theory, a dream come true. In my most pathetic daydreams, I'd pictured this very scene. Teddy munched on Lucky Charms, carefully saving all the marshmallows for his cereal finale, and Christian was in jeans with a newspaper and an overly healthy omelet. In my fantasy, I lovingly gazed at my two boys over coffee and enjoyed an inner monologue worthy of a Lifetime movie. However, today, I sat at the far edge of the table, unable to stomach the silence but not having the nerve to break it.

This fantasy was another thing to be ruined by Leila and her untimely psychotic break. My relationship with Christian was clearly on the chopping block, too, and my appetite had vanished, much to the chagrin of domineering Mr. Grey. It was ironic that this was worthy of his protection after my injuries and stalker seemed to be last on his list, and it took everything in me not to point it out.

Last night, in the haze of the Leila aftermath, I learned three things.

Toddler beds are even more uncomfortable than they seem.

If you make the decision to move to another bedroom, get your shit together first. Sneaking into the laundry room at one in the morning isn't an ideal way to get pajamas.

If the other person is the one who fucked up and created the need for space, _they_ should have to go through the inconvenience of moving, not you.

Pure fury fueled me at first. While blinded by anger, it was tolerable to sleep in a miniature bed (and then a stiff loveseat in the corner) and be periodically kicked in the stomach. I could give Christian the silent treatment when I wanted to scream. Even when he looked like a pitiful puppy, I walked away. But at some point in the night, wrath melted. Then the minor inconveniences became intolerable.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to sleep in an actual bed. I didn't want to walk away when he looked like a puppy. I didn't want to be scared, and I didn't even want to be angry. So, after double-checking the baby monitor, I caved and stumbled out of Teddy's bedroom. For a while, I paced the hallway, measuring the distance in my nervous lip biting and uncomfortable fidgeting.

It was only when I was standing at Christian's door that I realized what replaced the fury.

_Hurt_.

He'd come to me second. When worst came to worst, he thought of obligations to his ex-girlfriend instead of the mother of his child _and_ his child. I'd actually been attacked, and he popped up hours later, hoping to not confide his previous whereabouts. Desperately, I wanted it not to be true. Before, I thought our family was the center of his universe, but now, I was the woman fighting with him over "meaningless" mistakes.

Up until now, I hadn't truly considered our present in context to our past. Once we exchanged apologies and became a family, it slipped to the back of my mind. I was so busy thinking that he had changed that I forgot to ask myself if he had. I never questioned his devotion, even if I did question our compatibility. He was aware that I was a sub, but what if he still need it? Even if I did return to the Red Room, it would never be to Leila's capacity, and a dark part of me wondered if him running to her first was related to her pain tolerance with his toys. I was a girlfriend, not a submissive, and I saw Christian as my boyfriend, not my dominant. But right now, I just looked at him like an asshole.

When I saw Christian stir in bed, I backed out of the bedroom and muddled through the apartment to a spare room. Every time my eyes got tired, I swore I could see her in my peripheral vision. It was as if Leila was forever lurking in the shadows. She told me that she'd been in our apartment, that she'd watched us sleep. Despite reason deeming it impossible, something inside of me believed her.

It was a miracle I ever got to sleep, which is why I was so infuriated when Curtis woke me up this morning. Until then, my assistant was the last thing on my mind, and I hadn't realized that my bedrest orders complicated his job. While practically chained to my bed, I could hardly make it to the office, and what couldn't be rescheduled was at the mercy of video chatting and conference calls. Curtis not only had the unfortunate duty of attending to details while working with a scattered woman. He also had to wake me up.

In his defense, Curtis did sneak Starbucks into the apartment building. Judging by the reorganized kitchen, Christian thought it unwise to have caffeine when I was supposed to go right back to sleep after my appointment with the doctor, and naturally, that made me want to drink coffee more.

Curtis was visibly rattled by seeing this version of me. With only a few hours of sleep and a myriad of bruises, I looked like hell and felt like it, too. Last night, I found temporary refuge in random bedrooms until I could blur her face from my memories. The laundry room offered little in terms of appropriate sleepwear, leaving me in a floppy tee shirt that belonged to Christian and a pair of yoga pants that went to one yoga class too many. But at least I got to sleep at all.

The entire time I tried to get myself together, Curtis stressed Christian's orders. I should keep off my feet. I should get some more sleep before my appointment. I should restrict junk food until I was back on my feet, which only made me want a damn donut. The problem with these orders was that, while realistic and probably even helpful, they were _orders_ from him. Rebellion was imminent.

So, like the unreasonable bitch I am, I didn't let Curtis go to my old bedroom and get my clothes, and I didn't even use the precautionary crutches on the walk over. I bypassed the offer of egg whites and low-fat bacon alternatives and poured myself a bowl of Lucky Charms with Teddy. The thing was, I wanted Christian to know I was mad. I wanted him to know that I was hurt. I wanted him to know that he fucked up, and if eating marshmallows in front of him drove it home, then I'd eat another fucking bowl of cereal.

"You're not going to work, are you?" Christian, half-way through breakfast, broke the silence. It was pretty obvious I wasn't given my oversized tee shirt (another thing I stole from Christian) and leggings, but I suspected that wasn't the point. Concern was apparent, and while it briefly melted my heart, I responded coolly.

"No. Are you?" The idea of him leaving was enough to spark our first conversation in twelve hours.

I wasn't sure if I wanted him to leave. Despite his asshole tendencies, I did like having him on the same coast, but I also couldn't fathom his constant presence in the apartment. Had Leila not gone crazy in _my _old apartment, I probably would have packed a bag and camped out in my pre-war building until my headspace cleared. If I was stuck here, at least his apartment came with security…

"No, just a few meetings I can handle in my office this afternoon," Christian tried to hide his impatience. He was ready for forgiveness or at least a conversation extending past a few sentences, but I didn't want to give him either.

"I should get going," I stood, kissing Teddy on the crown of his head, "Essie will be here soon, and until then, Curtis will be here."

"You're going by yourself?" Christian was horrified, and I nodded.

"Yes, I can go by myself, Christian." It was a struggle to keep the venom out of my voice.

"Your bodyguard can be ready in a few minutes. Just wait-" Christian started.

"I don't need Taylor," I insisted.

"It isn't Taylor. Really, Roberts will be right out."

_Roberts_? Who the fuck was Roberts? If the bodyguard wasn't Taylor, Christian must have gotten a new bodyguard for me. Was that another detour on his way to see me yesterday?

It was enough that Leila went psychotic and came after me. I didn't need to be constantly reminded of it by a bodyguard. What else could we possibly be afraid of? Was it a regular occurrence for an ex-sub to go crazy and hunt down his current fuckbuddy?

The more I worried, the more my errand felt like a dangerous quest. The three blocks between the doctor's office and the lobby were landmines, threatening bodily harm and further psychological torture. In our vague discussions of past submissive, I'd only gotten a number. I had no access to names, reasons for leaving, or current mental state. Every woman with oily hair and a black trench coat was a threat, which created a large list of enemies in Manhattan. And, if I was being honest, Mrs. Robinson was another bitch from hell to add to my expanding list of women to avoid.

Fortunately, Christian was correct. Roberts was right out, preventing me from finding an excuse to bolt or to intensify my irrational fears.

"Are you ready, Miss Steele?"

It took me a few moments to realize I'd been asked a question, and I couldn't contain my surprise. I'd expected another ex-military, brooding man like Taylor. So, when a 6'2" woman with the strongest biceps I'd ever seen stepped up, I was blind sighted.

"Um, yes, I am," I swallowed, awkwardly shouldering my bag and standing up. It was hard to resist gawking at her, especially given our disparaging heights, but she scared me enough to remain polite, "And please, call me Ana."

Roberts nodded silently, not agreeing to the name change but not disagreeing either. I took that as a victory, kissing the top of Teddy's head and offering Christian an awkward lingering glance before leaving. The entire elevator ride to the lobby, Roberts was silent. Even when opening the door for me, Roberts remained quiet.

A block in, the silence was unbearable, so I decided to break it, "So… This is the first time I've had a bodyguard," I blurted out. Clearly, I was off to a great start.

"Not really used to this," I couldn't stop talking, trying to stay in step with her much longer legs, "It's never been needed before." I watched her expression, wondering if she knew about yesterday. On one hand, I hoped she knew nothing to avoid treating me like glass, but on the other, I hoped she knew everything. I didn't want to explain my jumpiness and irrationality. It was enough to have been attacked. I didn't need to relive it.

"I understand, ma'am," Roberts gave no indication either way. _Great_.

"You really don't have to call me ma'am. Ana is fine," I suggested.

"Yes, ma-Ana," Roberts obliged.

"What's your name?" I tried to pass the time, knowing we weren't even halfway.

"Elle. Elle Roberts."

"Your name is _Elle_?" I repeated, shocked once more.

"My mother is a fan of the magazine," Roberts obviously understood the irony in a six-foot body builder being named Elle, but she showed little emotion about it. I wondered if that was her typical behavior and if I would adjust as I got to know her further. It would be a long time before things ever returned to normal, _if_ they ever did, and Roberts seemed to be part of the deal.

"That's nice," I murmured, jamming the button on the crosswalk.

We were silent again, but instead of forcing conversation, my attention drifted towards the crowd. The sidewalk was full of bankers on their way to work and hungover models on their way to coffee, painting the scene in shades of black and glitter. White coffee cups dotted the crowd, adding dimension to an expanding group of people.

And then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw it. Dark, unwashed hair. Sullen face. Black trench coat. That evil look in her eyes. _Leila,_ it had to be Leila. I whirled around in panic, searching the crowd for the dark figure in a sea of gray business suits and briefcases. I shifted past people, knocking into hot coffee and body glitter as I struggled to keep my eyes on Leila.

I ran the block, pushing past everyone in my way and earning death glares in the process. Behind me, I could vaguely hear Elle urging me to stop, but I couldn't let Leila get away. Not after everything she'd done.

I caught her on the crosswalk, yanking the trench coat back to force Leila to look at me.

And…

It… It wasn't Leila.

She was younger, hardly even twenty years old compared to Leila's late twenties. Her eyes were darker, almost black. Beneath the trench coat, she was wearing a club dress with thigh-highs, and she was covered in intricate tattoos, none of which Leila had. But how could it not be Leila?

"What the fuck? Get off me!" And she was definitely from New Jersey.

"I-I thought you were someone else," I stuttered, releasing her jacket, "I'm so sorry-"

"Fuck off!" The stranger shoved my shoulders to get me away, pushing me into a solid figure that promptly pulled me out of the street to the sidewalk.

I didn't have to look up to know it was Elle Roberts, who had been trying to get me to stop the entire time I chased down some poor woman in Manhattan. Had I gone crazy? In my panic, I ignored all logic. I knew Leila wasn't in the city and that, if she was, she wasn't coming out of a deli with a sub sandwich at nine am after an obvious night of binge drinking.

"I thought I saw her," I whispered, trying to calm my raging heartbeat.

"Breathe, Ana," Roberts whispered, crouching to meet my eyes.

"I just grabbed someone in the middle of the street! I'm crazy. I have to be crazy," I put my hand on my forehead, struggling to calm down.

"You have PTSD. Don't blame yourself," Roberts was surprisingly reassuring, "I'm going to get a car. Everything is going to be okay."

The world was spinning too fast for me to keep up. Even as I was lured into the cab, I didn't pay attention to where we were going. My city didn't feel safe anymore. Out of everything Leila had taken from me, I didn't think she'd take my piece of mind. She took my sanity. How could I forgive Christian after this? She came after me because of him, and he picked her.

* * *

**This was a surprisingly hard chapter write, which explains the time it took to write it. I wanted to show her PTSD and the problems within Christian and Ana's relationship after Leila, but it was hard to get into words. I know it is short and not my best work, but I hope you like it! It definitely didn't help that I got a staph infection and couldn't breathe properly for a few days, but now that I am healthy, I am back to my keyboard!**

**Just to answer a few questions, Leila's attack and their fight afterward have been the plan since the beginning, but it only recently fit into the storyline. I feel like, after this amount of time, Leila would have been more violent and Anastasia would have had lingering issues afterward. I also think that, given her previous characterization, Anastasia is more likely to avoid the conversation than discuss her problems with Christian. Again, constructive criticism is very different from hate mail, and whether it is via review or personal message, it is unnecessary. I am able to take constructive criticism and even want it, but you know when it goes too far. **

**Another twist is coming soon, so don't get too comfortable! **


	28. Fifty Shades of Therapy

_**Fifty Shades of Secrets**_

**Chapter 28: Fifty Shades of Therapy**

* * *

**Anastasia Steele,**

"So, where does life go from here, Anastasia?"

Set against dull shades of sterile gray and blue, it was easy to miss the severity of the question. Dr. Elias seemed to be just another fixture in her monotonous office, not a significant feature of it. I wondered vaguely if the muted space was intentional or if my view of the world had been dimmed. I struggled to keep my eyes on the small woman shrouded in polite smiles and dingy armchairs. Yet this was the woman I was supposed to share everything with.

Tucking my hair behind my ear, I focused on the question and offered the expected smile. "Isn't therapy supposed to be gentle? Aren't you supposed to begin with my favorite color?" It was meant as a joke, but through my forced expression, she easily read my irritation. I suspected that she already knew about Leila and our encounter, but I thought she would begin with that. My experience with therapy was limited to a brief stint after my parent's divorce, and I felt out of place and out of the loop in this stupid armchair. Perhaps this was normal.

"Is this a sensitive subject?" Dr. Elias's expression was perfect for a therapist, hopeful and understanding, but it left me on edge.

I didn't want to be here. I didn't want a therapist. I wanted my life to go back to normal.

"I suppose so," I tapped on my leg unconsciously.

"Let's begin somewhere else then, Ana. Your accident. Tell me about it," Dr. Elias coaxed me into explaining my tale, her pen occasionally moving along her notepad.

This is what I had prepared for. The ride over, I thought of the most concise explanation with the least amount of unnecessary complaining. And that speech was exactly the one I gave her, "I was selling my apartment and planned on spending the night there with my two-year-old son. We had previously lived there alone but now live in his father's apartment. As we'd discussed moving to the west coast, the sleepover was a proper send-off to our old ways, so I came early without him. There was an intruder who had been living in the apartment as me, and unfortunately, the situation became physical. I went back to my current apartment where I have been on bedrest. Unfortunately, there are undesirable side effects. Recently, I mistook a stranger on the street for my attacker, and it has been suggested that I am suffering from PTSD."

Dr. Elias nodded thoughtfully, scribbling faster on her notepad, but when she looked up at me, I didn't see the satisfaction I was expecting. She relaxed her posture and took a deep breath, signaling for me to do the same, and she explained, "Anastasia, this is a safe space. You don't need a rehearsed speech because there is no judgment. In addition, non-disclosure agreements are not applicable because of doctor-patient confidentiality."

_Non-disclosure agreements…_

"So then, Christian contacted you?" I sank into the chair. Of course, he did. He'd pushed for a session with a psychiatrist and had set up the appointment, so he apparently gave her a list on me.

"My friend, Dr. Flynn, contacted me a few days ago, but I can assure you that the same confidentiality keeps him from giving me any information on his patients or you. He simply suggested me and told me that I should mention NDAs don't need to be followed here," Dr. Elias's permasmile made me more uncomfortable each time I saw it. How could she be so damn happy right now?

"_Right_," I muttered.

"You seem very angry, Anastasia. You can tell me about it," Dr. Elias wasn't giving up. Realizing how combative I was being, I decided to oblige her and embrace therapy. I was stuck here for the next hour, so I told her. Though, to be fair, I could have been friendlier.

"My boyfriend's ex-girlfriend broke into my apartment and tried to kill me. My two-year-old son was supposed to be there with me, and while I was cut up and emotionally battered, my fucking boyfriend went to check on _her_. He picked _her._ Yes, I am angry," I snapped.

"Alright," Dr. Elias settled into her chair, "I understand, and your anger is justified. Do you feel like your boyfriend caused this?"

_Well…_ My throat ran dry as I processed the question.

What else could Dr. Elias pull out of the hat? Had she bugged my apartment and knew I spent the entire night pouring over Christian and his relationship to my attack? I was blindsided by her intuition and horrified at having to discuss such a dark thought. Realistically, I understood that Christian had not been the one in my apartment who physically hurt me, but it wasn't hard to tie him to it.

It was Christian's ex-sub, and she had a history of instability and was not over their separation. No matter how hard he denied it, Christian was easy to love, and I didn't doubt that there was a string of girls in Seattle still madly in love with their ex-dom. I wondered how I would have felt to learn that, after rejecting me in the name of disliking traditional relationships, he had a family with some other girl. Though I hated Leila with every ounce of my being, I also hated how easy it was to place myself in her shoes.

A few years ago, I was the naïve girl asking Christian for more and running away when it didn't happen. Sudden responsibility pushed my life forwards, and I drowned my sorrows in gummy cravings and English classics. It crushed me to leave after a few months. I had no idea how painful it would have been to stay a year and abruptly sever the emotional attachment. If I could so easily understand Leila, how many of his fifteen were like that?

"Anastasia?" Elias forced me out of my thoughts, wanting to hear them for herself. Once again, I reminded myself not to lie to a physiatrist.

"It was Christian's ex. He knew she was crazy, and he didn't even tell me about her. He picked visiting her afterward. Our relationship has always been complicated, but this isn't just some asshole-boyfriend move. We have a son, and his wellbeing is our responsibility. I didn't tell Christian about Teddy until a few months ago, but we've worked through that. We have a good, solid family. And now…" I chewed on my lips, watching how quickly she scribbled unintelligible words on her pad, "Having Teddy means that we can't take this lightly. I can't just decide that loving Christian is enough to not care about this or that we should just make peace for the sake of making peace. My little boy was supposed to be in that apartment, and had things not gone well, he would have spent the rest of his life without a mother. I can't just give up."

Thoughtfully, she nodded her head and maintained eye contact as she asked, "You think forgiving him would be giving up?"

"That's not what I meant," I stumbled, "I'm not five and fighting just to fight. I can't just jump in bed with Christian."

"Why do you think you'd be 'just jumping in bed' with him?" Elias certainly didn't avoid the hard questions.

"Because that's what we do. We fight, have sex, and pretend the fight didn't happen," I persisted, feeling frustrated, "We did it the first time around, and now, we're still doing it. But this is much bigger than a misinterpreted conversation or unrealistic expectations, so we can't just strip down to deal with it."

Dr. Elias clearly had many thoughts on what I'd just said, and for a moment, she pondered what she'd say next. I was sure she'd delve into possible daddy issues, encourage me to elaborate on my complicated relationship, or try to make connections to some deeper issue. I didn't know which path I wanted her to follow or if I wanted any of them at all. But, instead, she just went back to the start.

"Do you blame him, Anastasia?" Dr. Elias didn't say anything else, just staring at me and politely smiling.

I was stunned to stillness, working through days of rogue thoughts I'd tried to suppress. I didn't want to think about the issue, let alone make a definitive statement. He wasn't the one with the knife, but it was his presence that brought her there. It was his ex-sub. His decision not to warn me. His fucked-up priorities.

Despite his faults (and to my bewilderment), I loved him. I'd given up on denying it. But love wasn't enough.

"No," I admitted, averting her eye contact, "But for months, he's shown such dedication to his child and the idea of us being a family, and I thought we were the top priority. I was twenty-two when we met, and he didn't participate in 'traditional' relationships. I wanted him to love me, so I left and was too scared to tell him I was pregnant when I found out a few months later. And now, he's doing everything I dreamed about. He reads bedtime stories, bought a house in the suburbs, and loves me. Because I wanted that so badly, I let it cloud my judgment. We've only been 'dating' for less than a month, and I was ready to move to Seattle within a few weeks and leave everything I worked for."

"So, is this really about Christian then?" Dr. Elias tilted her head.

"Yes and no," I crossed my arms, "She was terrifying. I thought she was going to kill me, and she just kept going. I broke her nose, and she was still after me. I can't even sleep because I feel like she's lurking in the shadows, wanting to take my baby," I knotted my fingers together, "New York scares me now, but I don't want to go back to Seattle with him after everything that's happened."

"What _do_ you want, Anastasia?" Dr. Elias asked, and for the first time, I knew the answer to this one.

"I want to be cleared to go back to work. Leila took my security, but she didn't take my life. Things are different now, but I want to have normalcy. I want to go back to my routine until I figure everything out, but I need you to permit it first." Perhaps, my honesty was too much, but I wasn't supposed to lie to her. And this was my intention. Getting the words out felt like pulling teeth, but even without Christian's ultimatum, I recognized my need for psychiatric help and the convince of having it at my disposal.

Receiving her permission however was just a requirement to fulfill an ultimatum. With Christian's insistence, Scarlet determined that I needed to take time to myself before returning to work, and to prove that I was competent and healthy enough to return to the office, she'd insisted I get a medical report saying so. There was no urgency to get me back to a company being purchased by my boyfriend, especially since Scarlet's obligation to the company was fulfilled the moment she signed the paperwork. Last night, after reminding me to keep my appointment, she'd suggested I take as much leave as I needed and start work in Seattle a few months off schedule. There were thousands of possibilities on how I could spend that free time. Per Scarlet's suggestions, I could go on a vacation, assist Kate with wedding planning, or find myself again in unfamiliar terrain.

But I wasn't the person who did that. I wasn't the girl who exaggerated a minor event and utilized all of my sick days before bolting. Even when I was pregnant with Teddy and stuck in a low-level job with horrible hours, I fit my doctor's appointments into breaks and rode through my morning sickness while typing emails. Back then, I had to be like that. When Teddy and I were in Atlanta, I was on my own for the first time and had a child to care for. Working from home on late nights and surviving off two hours of sleep kept my rent paid and my family fed. Just because I was comfortable now didn't mean my work ethic had to become nonexistent.

Being in my office again, faced with responsibilities outside of my apartment, would give me something to focus on, and making decisions in a crowded room is much easier than festering in silence.

"Anastasia," Dr. Elias shifted, leaning closer to me in a sign of affection that was lost on me, "You are a very brave, competent woman, and I do agree that you are stable enough to return to work based on my time with you. However, I feel you would be doing yourself a great disservice to abandon therapy. This is a safe space where you can freely converse with me, and you have a lot to work out. You do not need to be brave and shoulder this alone."

"I know," I forced a soft smile, "And I won't." It was clear to me that I didn't like Dr. Elias, but I didn't like being scared. I wanted to be healthy more than I wanted to like her, so I stuck it out. I cooperated the entire hour, willingly working through issues and honestly answering questions.

And when I left, there were no mysterious strangers to chase down. Elle got me home without any scenes, and there were no fights to be had with Christian, who was still working in his office. There was just me. And I spent the rest of the afternoon, trying to delay the decision I made…

_**Christian Grey**_¸

In almost two weeks, Anastasia Steele hadn't stepped foot in my office. I'd overheard her lovingly refer to this time as "medical house arrest." Everyone insisted that Anastasia recuperate through relaxation and-_ultimately_-therapy. Logically, it was feasible. Lewis Publishing was in its last stage of current management, and soon, the office would change. The sign above the door would be replaced, and the transition stage would begin. Until then, her presence was unnecessary, especially given that her future home was undefined. Anastasia accomplished all of the responsibilities LP had for her via email and the occasional conference call, and while I'd hoped it would give her the time she needed, I quickly saw that it wasn't working.

Anastasia needed something else. Her assistant hypothesized that she was in withdrawals from being a workaholic, and Scarlet thought she needed to get out of the city to clear her head. I feared more drastic requirements. Silently, the question hung in the air through every untalkative meal and polite smiles. What if she needed me to get out of her life?

We didn't talk about it. In fact, I only ever said it to Flynn, but Leila's attack was not independent of me. Her previous episodes were fueled by her attention cravings, but this time, it was strike against what had been taken from her. Fear didn't do good things to a person. It drove Leila to violence. It drove Anastasia to denial. And it drove me to away from what I loved. Fear brought me to Leila's bedside, and I frantically talked her down, putting her suicide attempt over my suffering family. At the time, it was the sensible choice. I'd prevented her suicide once before and had successfully gotten her through treatment and towards independence, but the more time passed, the more flaws I saw in my plan.

Leila's instability was dangerous. When happy, she was just an apologetic girl that cared more than I did. When unhappy, she had turned me into the beacon of injustice. When she lost it all, I was the one who never gave it to her. I couldn't stop living my life to appease her. There were things I still wanted to do with Anastasia that could set Leila off. There were holidays I wanted to celebrate, a house I wanted to renovate, and a son I wanted to raise. Calming Leila now didn't prevent further fear, but not being there for Anastasia had made a lasting difference.

When Anastasia walked into my office for the first time in so long, hope got the better of me. Perhaps one therapy session had made all of the difference, and for the second time, we could start over and add this to our long list of past mistakes to avoid.

But the problem was that stepping inside of my office didn't mean reconciliation. It meant confrontation. And just like that, hope slipped away

"Hey," Anastasia leaned against the door.

"Hello, Anastasia," I closed my laptop, attempting to be casual as I grappled with the fact she was here. I hesitated to stand, unsure if she'd let me get close or if I would awkwardly stay where I was. So, instead, I motioned for her to sit in front of me and only realized afterward how condescending it was. Shit.

Ana cautiously smiled and took a seat in one of the nearby seats, nervously tapping her foot. She took a deep breath, tracing her finger along the stitching. "Been busy?" she clumsily pointed to my computer, and it made me smile that she still was terrible at small talk.

"Not too much. Ros may be mad, but she's amazing at her job," I shook my head, pushing my laptop further away.

"Right," Anastasia nodded, "We, um… We haven't talked in awhile, and I think we should."

"I agree." I anxiously awaited the conversation that had been building for weeks, mentally noting key points I wanted to address and how to phrase them. Surely, she'd much rather hear that I missed her than see me on my knees and begging her to at least sleep in the same bed to keep my horrific nightmares at bay.

But neither of us spoke.

The silence dragged on, growing more uncomfortable by the second. Despite both wanting to talk, neither of how knew how to.

Finally, Ana ended the silence, but her opening statement threw me for a loop.

"Teddy should probably start school soon," Anastasia blurted it out, mirroring my surprise.

"School?" I repeated the word slowly. Did this statement mean that she'd been thinking about her permanent residence or that she was just nervously blurting things out?

"He's about that age. He's on a waiting list for one of those ridiculously overpriced preschools in Chelsea, promising to have a child fluent in Mandarin by four and accepted to Harvard by nine. The preschools in New York are ridiculous. Either the kid will run naked and be immersed in emerging art or will have calculus shoved at them. I don't even think I'd get into one as an adult because I spent Spanish class watching Telenovelas and watching movies in Spanish with subtitles." The rambling continued, continuously gaining speed as she ventured further off subject, "What if Teddy plays lacrosse? I have no idea how lacrosse works. There would probably be a lynch mob of mommies if I brought orange slices that weren't organic."

It was as if she was a disc spinning too fast that finally flew off because, suddenly, she just collapsed into silence and cradled her head in her hands. Paralyzed by shock, I stared at her. By the time I finally worked up the nerve to walk over to her, she'd already put herself back together and was ready to talk again. This time, she motioned for me to sit, and I sat beside her, feeling like I was watching a bomb's timer. Whatever she had to say would change us for the better or for the worse.

"It's been two weeks, and we've both been 'playing it by ear.' That isn't like either of us. We're both missing work and just avoiding conflict, and eventually, it has to happen," Anastasia watched me and carefully proceeded, "We're living in a bubble, and I don't want to be like this anymore. I'm going back to work. My therapist thinks I am ready to return."

"Ana, you need to heal-" I began but was quickly silenced.

"I do. But everyone has to stop telling me how to. Someone tried to kill me, and I came home to a little boy who wouldn't have had a mom had she succeeded. I can't take that lightly. Right now, everything is centered around Leila, and I'm really done with it. At work, I'm back in a real world where I don't have to spend every waking moment breaking down some of the worst hours of my life," Anastasia's argument was infuriatingly valid, and it only underscored how much I'd hurt her. Even when trying to help, I'd suffocated her and encouraged constant discussion of her attacker.

Nothing was right. Every roadblock had been thrown at us. Every time we tried, we hit a snag, and every time we tried to not repeat the snag, something worse happened. I was an asshole who yelled at her about being a virgin, and when the opportunity arose, I abandoned our goal of "more" and pushed too hard for my own sexual benefit. I gave up looking for her, and she didn't trust me. Our second try was just as chaotic. When I wasn't being a dick, Elena was torturing Anastasia and revealing her years of lies and abuse. And when that wasn't happening, my ex-sub was having a violent episode and breaking into Anastasia's apartment to threaten her.

_She doesn't need you, and she shouldn't want you_, a voice in my head reminded me. It was the same voice that told me when buy and sell, and in my experience, it was rarely wrong.

"You need to go home, Christian."

"Are you coming?" The words poured out of me, and I hardly even recognized I was the one that said them.

"Not now," Anastasia's voice cracked, and she swiftly wiped away tears still forming, "This weekend, I'll come with Theodore, and I will be there for Kate's wedding in a few weeks. But right now, I really don't know, Christian."

"You have to understand. I never meant to hurt you, and I can't express the regret I feel. I can never apologize enough, but I thought I was doing the right thing. I-I didn't want her to kill herself because of me, because I basically told her to fuck off when she asked me for more. I didn't think I'd ever want _more_ until I met you, Anastasia, and we can fix this in Seattle. We'll be away from what Leila did and get help, and…" I raked my fingers through my hair, trying to quell the panic, "I love you, Anastasia. Please."

Anastasia was leaving me. She's leaving me. Fuck. No. I can't let her go. She can't go.

The submissive in me started to take over, clouding every word she said as I reverted to a stage of my life I thought I'd forgotten.

But before I was on the floor, four words kept me in my chair.

"I still love you…"

Just four words that somehow fit into a larger speech I'd missed, and they rang in my ears.

"You do?" Even I could hear the terror in my voice and was sure that Anastasia could also hear the pounding in my chest.

"Of course, I do," Anastasia squeezed my hand, "But…" she shut her eyes tight, allowing a stray tear to fall, and out of instinct, I wiped it away. When she looked back up at me, I wasn't sure who was more brokenhearted, "But I don't know if that is enough right now. I need you to go home. I need to get my life back before I can make these decisions. Right now, everything needs to be about Theodore. Is that okay?"

_No_.

"I understand," I lied, "Olivia will get everything ready for me to leave."

Anastasia nodded, warily untangling our hands. Swiping at her eyes one last time, Anastasia stood from the chair, and after an uneasy goodbye, she was out of my office once more. As I tried to collect myself and subdue the chaos inside, I wondered why I ever wanted her to come in this room in the first place. This room, once just a home office, was a reminder of agony, and I wanted every inch of it demolished and taken to the studs to start again.

When I finally left the room, Theodore had already gone to bed, and I was relieved to not face him as a blubbering mess. Curtis, who had temporarily moved into a guest bedroom, seemed to have finally returned to his own apartment. Essie left hours ago, and Taylor made it clear this morning that he'd scheduled a video call with his daughter now due to the time difference. So, with Anastasia and I being the only ones around, the apartment felt so much smaller.

Knowing that Anastasia could pass by the master on the way to her bedroom, I left the door open. Maybe she had regrets. Maybe she wanted me to stay and would make an impassioned plea once she saw me pathetically filling a duffle bag. Maybe this was all just some convoluted test.

If any of it was true, I never found out. Ana didn't walk by my open door that night. There were no elaborate displays of affections and theatrical apologies, and eventually, I gave up hope and settled in for my last night in New York. The nightmares were worse than ever, and at one point, I could have sworn that she was there, comforting me. But she didn't stay.

She didn't stay because I wasn't supposed to stay. When morning came, I was supposed to go. For the first time, it was my turn to run.

* * *

**I hate always having to explain why chapters are late, but honestly, life is really crazy right now. I've also been looking at the plan for this story and realized that my current plan didn't work, so I have been grappling with changing something I've had planned since the beginning and replacing it with something that better fits. So, it may take some time to get the next chapter out since I am still playing with the plan, but it shouldn't be long!**

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter. It's hard to show the depth of emotion I want to show, so I hope this isn't too weak or too choppy. But again, please refrain from reviews solely meant to hurt. I want constructive criticism but will not tolerate anonymous reviews unnecessarily berating my story and me personally. **

**As always, please review, favorite, and follow! **


	29. Fifty Shades of Productivity

_**Fifty Shades of Secrets**_

**Chapter 29: Fifty Shades of "Productivity"**

* * *

_**Christian Grey**_,

Rain consumed Seattle.

It beat against my car windows, momentarily blurring the cityscape. It pelted the sidewalk, and tourists slipped along the unfamiliar territory. Even the briefest time in the elements left you soaked to the bone, followed by an accompanying chill. Tucked away in the clouds, my office was shrouded in grey and filled with sound of the external showers.

Much like the city, the rain consumed me. The weather was the friendliest topic in my arsenal. Without it overwhelming my thoughts. I only had my failure with Anastasia to keep me company. The events of the month would play out again and again in my head, urging me to somehow take them back. Only the rain kept me occupied, making me incompetent and inconvenient in the office.

It was not a surprise that, at only ten am, Ros was already prepared to rip my head from my body. She moved with such force and determination that you could practically hear her on the ground floor, and as she slapped a report to my desk, I was amazed the wood withstood her fury.

"Thank God you're alive. I was starting to think you'd been murdered in New York and replaced by someone only willing to email," Ros's voice oozed familiar sarcasm, humor, and rage. And for a brief moment, it comforted me. Then it concerned me.

"Perfectly alive," I replied, lacking her enthusiasm.

"You look like a freshly-dumped teenager," Ros eyed me down, "We have a meeting in half an hour. You aren't going to cry, are you?"

"Always supportive, Ros," I mumbled, referencing the agenda Olivia had politely placed on my desk before I arrived, and I nearly grimaced that she was correct. I was expected to function in less than half an hour, and I was musing about the symbolism of rain.

"Unfortunately, Mr. Grey has a case of the stomach flu and can't make it. I'll be sure to spread the word," Ros offered me a way out in the softest way she could, and she cocked an eyebrow as she added, "Seriously, what the fuck, Grey?"

Fortunately, discussion had been kept to a minimum after my untimely departure from JFK, so I had not experienced the sting of being forced to explain myself. It only made me further obsess over the terms of our relationship and what the hell a "break" really was. Sitting beneath Ros's glare, I understood the importance of a valid explanation as to my idleness, yet sleep deprivation prevented a sufficient answer.

"I am, in fact, a freshly dumped teenager. Currently stuck at the_ throw-rocks-at-her-window_ stage," I replied, mirroring her sarcasm, but in my position, it translated to bitterness.

My disappointment in myself hadn't waned, even if sleepless nights hindered normal brain function. Anastasia asked me to leave to increase her productivity, but mine plummeted. The only time I'd been effective in the last forty-eight hours was my goodbye breakfast with Teddy. Tucked away in a diner with cinnamon waffles and syrup, it was easy to pretend that my discussion with Ana hadn't taken place, and I enjoyed my last morning with Theodore before flying home. But when it was time to take Theodore back to the apartment and retreat to the airport, the finality was crushing.

As I settled Theodore into the care of his nanny in the lobby, it seemed to be a vision of the future. Should our break be as damning as it appeared, I was destined for more awkward drop-offs in apartment lobbies. Being with Theodore constantly for the last two weeks made less contact unbearable. If Anastasia were to remain in New York and establish Teddy's life there, my options were limited to the occasional holiday and rainy summers my son would soon begrudge.

The more I thought about the possibility of losing her irrevocably, I pathetically lingered in New York with hopes that Anastasia would stop me, but she didn't. And I flew home a blubbering, hopeless mess.

Realistically, I had been through a separation with Anastasia before, and then, our relationship (or lack thereof) was made abundantly clear. Without the process of interpreting vague relationship jargon, I knew that Anastasia never wanted to see me again, and after extensive therapy sessions, I faced a life without her. But not even Dr. Flynn could dull the pain of tasting happiness and recklessly ruining it.

"Sorry," Ros's sympathy was genuine but offered no solace. I was still being a pain in her ass.

"Stomach flu, right," I stood cautiously, collecting my phone to alert Olivia to the newfound crisis. My emotions were too dulled to recognize my irritation in a feigned illness. Instead, I bargained with myself that, after this one pity day, I would throw myself back into life just as Anastasia had, "I'll be sure to leave the _dumped-teenager_ at home tomorrow."

"Good," Ros smiled at me, which was her method of support and commiseration. This smile quickly faded, and long before I could get to the door, Ros had already barreled through the office to fulfill her ball busting daily agenda.

Similarly, Olivia's day kicked into high gear with my ill-timed ailment, though she was hardly surprised that I required another day out of the office to regain strength. After two weeks of rescheduling my entire calendar to accommodate my sudden departure, I rationalized that she deserved the time off if she used my fake illness to get sick leave herself.

The prospects of an empty day terrified me. Once Theodore was introduced into my life, all of my free time felt like it belonged to him. I should be making up for lost time, and sitting in my sports car, I wondered how irresponsible and ill-advised a sudden flight to New York would be. Hiding in Manhattan would be easy but would only underscore my lie to her, so instead, I just drove.

With Taylor unavailable to take me home, my sports car braved the rain with me as its sole navigator through the wet landscape. Dodging rain puddles and forcing my mind to be blank, I was jealous of Taylor's new occupation that allowed him little time to overthink. To remove myself from the equation, I placed Taylor temporarily in charge of Leila until a permanent solution could be established. It was safer and healthy for my family and myself to sever contact and further responsibility. Out of courtesy, Taylor didn't consult me unless necessary and compiled a silent file on his work, and similarly, I left the reports unopened until I also deemed necessary. But honestly, I couldn't stomach the information within. It was enough to recognize how horribly I'd responded to the attack. I didn't need further reminder of how someone had tried to hurt the only things that really mattered to me.

At ten am, Seattle's traffic was practically nonexistent, condensing my commute home. Before turning off the engine in Escala's parking garage, I considered chasing nostalgia to the suburbs. Our visit to Pemberley Abbey was buried beneath the enormity of Anastasia's attack, making the memory seem much father off than in reality. But chastising myself for being sentimental, I retreated to Escala and avoided every baby-proof object in the apartment.

Filling my time was my priority of the day. Every minute spent busy was another minute I didn't bother Anastasia. Naively, I rationalized that Anastasia was correct in her assessment. Once she returned to her life and functioned in the real world, our 'break' would end, and calling her didn't encourage her return to normality. However, staying occupied was just as difficult in Escala.

Work- _again_\- was impossible. Working out in the home gym was awkward and dangerous Working out with Bastille was just as reckless. Not only had my training laxed while out of the city, Bastille's ability to read emotions and utilize them to push a client harder forced me to avoid his services. Nothing in my extensive library satisfied me, and my thoughts pushed every plot to the side. Love sickness was the only hurdle I could not jump, and alone in my castle in the clouds, I imagined Anastasia.

Across the country, Anastasia's day would march on. And mine stood at a standstill.

Research briefly diverted me. Thousands of articles promised a speedy recovery to relationship woes, but the more I delved into "breaks," the more I depressed I became. As far as every sitcom and romantic comedy eluded, breaks were deceptive. Despite the promise of temporary separation and ultimate reconciliation, breaks seemed to be another term for "break-up." Unless you were Matthew McConoughey and had a surprise display of affection in the last scene.

Had Anastasia left me for good?

She had every reason to. I'd known that, one day, she'd find the monster within me, but it coming to fruition varied greatly from my imagination.

"_Christian_?"

Mia's voice startled me, and I narrowly avoided dropping my MacBook on the kitchen tile. When I turned away from the kitchen island and towards the voice, my suspicions were confirmed. Mia, my younger sister, was eagerly (and surprisingly) standing in the middle of my living room with a periwinkle cardigan and enthusiastic smile. She was just the hopeless romantic I'd hoped to avoid. Though she never meant to hurt anyone, her genuine belief in love left me bitter. Mia still believed in fairytale endings, and I didn't know how to tell her that my princess just told me to get out of her kingdom.

"I thought you were in New York. I just came by to pick up a sweater I left the other day," Mia's dexterity allowed her to sprint towards me in heels, gently pressing a kiss to my cheek and taking a barstool next to me. Curiosity filled her expression as she spotted my laptop screen, "You're watching _Friends_?"

"Guilty habit," I lied to avoid explaining that my research lead me to the pop-culture experts on breaks.

Mia's interest had already diverted from streaming by the time I answered her question, and she practically bounced off of the bar stool as she asked, "Where's Ana? I'd love to bring her by the restaurant for lunch. Kate's on a strict vegan-for-the-wedding diet and won't give me an honest review of the gourmet cupcakes I'm introducing _M.I.A._"

Fuck.

"She's in New York," I carefully closed the laptop, "I thought you already had cupcakes at _M.I.A."_

As far as I knew, Mia had three great loves in her life. She loved her family, her restaurant downtown, and cupcakes. In the year she'd spent developing the menu for _M.I.A_, every family gathering was full of various trendy dishes guaranteeing to amaze, and financing the operation brought me solace before I met Ana again in Puerto Rico. Between Kate's wedding and my drastic lifestyle changes, her restaurant slipped between the cracks.

"We're introducing _gourmet cupcakes_, Christian," Mia stared at me as if not knowing the difference was a sin, "Ana would understand."

Yes, Ana would understand. Ana understood everything. She understood how to be a good mother to Theodore. She understood how to kick ass at her job. She understood how to love me. And ultimately, she understood that I was a monster.

"Speaking of, your girlfriend needs to get in town. Kate's scheduled another dress fitting this week, and Ana didn't come around last weekend," Mia's smile was vibrant as she inquired about Ana.

"She'll be here this weekend," my hints were hardly subtle, yet Mia didn't drop it.

"I thought she was moving here since you two were together for so long in New York," Mia's face dropped as she quickly inquired, "Wait, you're not moving to New York, are you? I know you want a family, but-"

"Anastasia left me."

The words flew out, shocking Mia to silence. The silence dragged on, silently questioning why the hell I'd told her that in such a dramatic way. After all, a break could mean anything.

_Who the hell are you kidding, Christian? _The voice in my head reasoned, _She was smart to leave the monster. _

"What?" Mia sank into her chair, "But you were so happy. What could have happened in such a short amount of time?"

"I made a mistake," I admitted, wary to begin the conversation. With Mia's disappointment staring back at me, I realized how tricky the situation was. There were many topics to be left untouched that correlated to Anastasia's decisions, yet without talking to Flynn, the isolation and confusion irked me. I wasn't ready to face Flynn and hear that I wasn't at fault when I knew I was, and Mia was surely more experienced with _breaks_ than I was, "You know Ana's been through a lot, and I made it worse."

I clearly remembered Anastasia's phone calls with Kate and Mia. It was long after Teddy had gone to bed, giving her the freedom to freely discuss her trauma, but instead of divulging, she tailored the story to her audience. As far as they knew, Anastasia had a bad fall in her old apartment. Anastasia and I both isolated support to avoid fully discussing what we didn't want to admit. At the time, I appreciated our similar reactions and wondered if it could bridge us back to each other. But it didn't. If anything, it pushed us apart.

Naturally, once she spoke to Ana, Mia had been supportive and wished her a speedy recovery, and after the initial surprise, Kate had the audacity to ask if her bruises were visible in her bridesmaid dress.

"Tell me what happened, Christian," Mia laid a compassionate hand beside mine, carefully avoiding touch, "You look like hell."

_It's not your story to tell_, the voice in the back of my head reminded me.

But it was. And she was my sister. Flynn was always encouraging me to include my family in my life, and there was no better time than when I was pathetically broken hearted and willing to watch 90s sitcoms to gain insight.

"Anastasia didn't fall because a box was too heavy. She fell because my ex-girlfriend attacked her, which is only made worse by the fact my ex had been living as Anastasia due to a psychotic break." Once it was out of my mouth, I understood that I should have started with Flynn and worked my way down to Mia.

"You have an ex?" Mia dropped her sweater to the counter in shock, and naturally, she failed at every attempt to seem calm. Considering her first response was shock at my expanding list of exes, I decided to bite the bullet and call Flynn.

"Never mind, we can talk later-" I began to pivot away from the conversation, prepared to lie about an impending meeting.

"No, I think I need to hear more about this," Mia shook her head, putting her hand on my laptop in an effort of keeping me in place, "You have an ex-girlfriend, which is… surprising. But obviously, not the important part."

Hesitantly, I remained on the barstool and waited for her to continue. Repeatedly, she opened her mouth to form a response but lost the words before they came out.

"I'm sorry… I'm still processing," Mia fiddled with her bangs, forcing them behind her ear in a nervous habit, "Why are you here? I don't understand. You're not with her, and it's not like you flew home for work because you're watching _Friends_ in your kitchen in the middle of the day. Christian, there's more than that, isn't there?"

_I don't want to talk about it_, was the easiest and most honest response, but out of frustration with myself and love for my sister, I obliged. "I didn't know what to do, and mistakenly, I went to my ex first."

Mia clearly understood the significance of this because her hand was promptly placed over her heart in surprise. Did everyone understand the rules of this except for me? Was there a handbook for vanilla relationships that detailed what to do when your ex attempts to kill your current girlfriend?

"Clearly, a mistake," I spoke before Mia could chastise me, "Anastasia is not… in a good place, and she thinks she can work through it better if I am not in New York."

Waiting for her reaction was torture. In the ten seconds before Mia responded, my mind worked up an alternate scenario where my younger sister would offer invaluable advice and assure me that this was a common, nonpermanent separation. But, instead, Mia bit her lower lip and furrowed her eyebrow, which was the same look she gave puppies at the kennel.

Fuck.

"I'm sure you're making a big deal out of nothing, Christian," Mia was unconvinced, and she hesitated to impart a wise personal tale about overthinking time apart. But I did the job for her, mentally combing through the many relationships I'd heard of at family gathers. As far as I knew, she'd only told a guy once that they needed to be apart to grow stronger, and within a month, Mia had already left him and started a new relationship.

"Right," I swallowed, desperately seeking confirmation that everything would be alright, "And, if it is a break, Rachel and Ross survived it." Citing an unfamiliar television show was reaching, but I had reason.

Pop culture had been right about me once. Much like a protagonist in the romantic comedies Mia forced me to watch, meeting the right girl was enough to change my ways. My priorities shifted, and though I made a mistake, my intentions for a happy family remained. Therefore, if pop culture had accurately predicted me falling in love with Anastasia, it could be right again. A break was not a death sentence. It was just a twist to drive the plot.

"Listen," Mia shook her head, giving me a comforting grin, "You and Anastasia will work this out, and you will find your way back to each other. Come on, fate put you together in the first place. You turned a drunk call at a resort into your family, so just take some time and relax, okay? I promise, it will turn out."

Mia's speech was cheesy but adequately sated me.

"You're right." The words came out easier this time. Just because the internet gave no insight on how to solve my plight didn't mean that it was unsolvable. Anastasia and I were not an ordinary couple, so ordinary advice was pointless.

What mattered was that we had fixed it in the past. Nothing was too far of a climb.

"Come to dinner tonight. Ethan is out of town, and I want to see my big brother. No excuses," Mia's optimism was infectious.

Long after Mia skipped out of my apartment, I was on a high of relief and adrenaline. Newfound hope fueled me through work emails and gave me the strength to abandon analysis of Rachel and Ross. Finally, my performance returned, kicking the lovesick teenager to side in the process.

I could have climbed a mountain. I could have run a marathon. I could have written the next "Great American Novel." Hope allowed me to push the events of the last month out of my mind, and in the middle of my kitchen, normalcy returned. Anastasia was coming this weekend, and just like every male protagonist in a romcom, I dreamed up grand romantic gestures to win back her affection.

The problem with hope is that it is uncertain, impractical, and-often- incorrect.

But I didn't know that yet.

Not until I opened Ros's email.

* * *

**To: Christian Grey**

**From: Ros Bailey**

**Subject: LP Merger **

**Last signature on the paperwork signed. Now to begin transition. It has been suggested that we stall the timeline to ensure employee loyalty, and I think we should have a team out in New York to assist in negotiations for continued employment. **

**Word is going around that the VP has submitted her application to other publishers. Probably just a power play to get more money in her next contract. **

**R. Bailey**

* * *

VP.

I reread the email multiple times, taking enough time to warrant a "Check your fucking email" text from Ros herself. Surely, it was a typo. Anastasia was Vice President of Lewis Publishing. Of course, she wouldn't sent her resume out to other publishers….

It was a break. She hadn't left me and decided to stay in New York, had she?

* * *

_**Anastasia Steele,**_

"Are you fucking with me?"

The entire floor turned around, staring at their former boss as she dropped the f-bomb in the middle of the hallway. After signing the paperwork, Scarlet's approach to the office dramatically altered. This ball-busting, stiletto-wearing career woman used to stalk her iphone for emails and exclusively drink black coffee to avoid assholes making fun of her coffee order. But today, she was in walking shoes, drinking Frappuccino's, and constantly texting a realtor about her impending move to the West Coast. At first, I wasn't even sure the security guard would let her in.

"No, I'm not fucking with you," I whisper-hissed, swatting her arm as I walked to my office. While Scarlet took on this new alter ego, I was still Anastasia. I still wore heels (begrudgingly) and behaved when at the office. Scarlet entered my office behind me, still staring at me like I'd dropped a bomb on her. Her reaction terrified me, but I brushed it off as best I could, "A lot's happening, so I asked him to go home. We're not in a great place right now."

For two days, I procrastinated this conversation. With Scarlet on another househunting trip, it was easy to pretend I hadn't made a monumental decision with Christian because I hadn't talked to anyone about it. But now, it was real, and I wished I'd waited longer to tell her.

"Wow," Scarlet flopped into one of the nearby armchairs, "So, what now? You're going to start seeing other people?"

"_What?"_ I couldn't contain my horror at the suggestion, so I tried to hide it behind my laptop screen.

The last few days had been hard enough without the introduction of "seeing other people." The day he left, it took everything in me to not beg him to stay. I knew that I needed time to myself to figure things out, but I also knew that I loved him. The fear of breaking my word and preventing him from leaving was so strong that I didn't see him at all when he left. Christian took Teddy out that morning to get breakfast and play in the park, and by ten am, he was at the airport and on his way to Seattle.

Even with our distance, I didn't feel like I was in the clear.

Contact with him since was like a minefield. Emails and texts were brief but maintained an undertone of reconciliation, and it was impossible to miss the misery in his voice when he called to say goodnight to Teddy. But I stayed the course, assuring myself that I was making the right decision for both of us, and I tried not to think about our upcoming shared weekend.

"Typically, when you tell someone that 'love isn't enough,' a break is really a _break-up_. I could set you up with someone. Having a rebound guy really helped after my divorce," Scarlet took a long sip of her Frappuccino, and I almost reminded her that she was still an employee of Lewis Publishing as long as the takeover hadn't enacted, which wasn't for another week.

"I don't want a rebound guy, and we're not broken up. We're just…" I trailed off, chewing on my lip as I settled for, "Not together."

"That was exactly how my first divorce began, Anastasia," Scarlet cocked an eyebrow, daring me to admit that I was secretly screwing someone in accounting.

"Scarlet, you clearly have too much time on your hands if you are trying to turn my life into a soap opera. Don't you have work to do or a house to buy?" Bringing up the house was the easiest way to change the subject but also the most painful. It was enough that Scarlet assumed my role as the logical, responsible friend. However, it killed me to know that she was moving to the west coast and leaving me in Manhattan.

Had Leila not broken into my apartment, I would have been in Scarlet's shoes. I would have been packing up an apartment, organizing reliable shipping, and transporting my life to the other side of the country. And now I just watched Scarlet do it from a distance. She packed. I answered emails. She picked out new carpeting, and I picked the coffee order Curtis rushed to get every morning.

Walking through her apartment was disheartening. Scarlet wasted no time in moving. While Christian was in town for me, he'd signed the paperwork to officially purchase Lewis Publishing, and Scarlet immediately booked a flight to LAX. Wini got time with her dad, who had already set up residence in Bel-Air with his new girlfriend, and Scarlet toured the coast to find the best match. As soon as she returned, her Manhattan penthouse was put on the market, and packing began. All of my memories of her apartment had been shoved in boxes destined for storage until she established a permanent home.

How had Scarlet become the one with her life together? And how had I fucked up mine?

"I put in an offer on an apartment in LA. Thought I might need one since Wini will need to go so often, and I'm not staying with the bimbo," Scarlet finished off her sugary coffee and casually tossed it in a nearby trash can, and for a moment, I envied her relaxation. None of this bothered her. She was leaving everything she'd worked for and didn't seem the least bit nervous. She hadn't even picked a state to live in, yet she lived with ease. I couldn't even work up the nerve to talk to Christian for longer than five minutes at a time.

"Picked a state?"

"Washington, and more specifically, Seattle."

Seattle?

The news felt like a gut punch. While I knew she'd spent a fair amount of time in Seattle, I thought the rain would persuade her to settle in San Diego or Santa Barbara. It was depressing enough going through her apartment full of boxes, but knowing that those boxes were headed to Seattle only increased their depression-factor. The more time went by, the clearer it became that I was more distraught than she was.

For as long as I'd had my apartment, I'd known that I would leave it. Eventually, I would need to be closer to schools and free of multiple renovations to the small space. But Scarlet's apartment was different. Through every relationship, Scarlet maintained the Park Avenue apartment she'd bought with her first husband. Her daughter, Wini, only knew this, and to a degree, _I _only knew that apartment. So, when she'd decided to sell it and purchase a smaller vacation place in the financial district, reality set in. Scarlet was leaving, and I wasn't. Things could never return to "before."

"Really?" I swallowed.

"I'm used to cold weather. My ex and I already decided that, given his life right now, distance was ideal. The flight isn't perfect, but Seattle is a good fit," Scarlet offered me an apologetic smile that reinforced her idea that Christian and I were permanently separated.

As Scarlet considered her future, I grasped how ambiguous mine had become. Deep down, I recognized that our separation wasn't permanent, but if it was, I didn't know how to cope. Would I have to watch Christian fall in love again? If he did find someone, would I be expected to attend the wedding and spend months discussing custody agreements? What if he had another child with someone else? What if I realized I didn't want to move to Seattle and had to cope with the possibility of losing Theodore for entire summers once he stared school? Fuck, what if our settlement was boarding school?

_No, stop it. That's not why you're here_, I reminded myself. I was here to function again. I was here to be normal Anastasia and not the battered victim. I was here to for solitary reflection on my relationship and future.

But then why did I send that resume?

The resume taunted me, reminding me of its five am submission. Finding a cause for my thoughtless action proved difficult. Was it anger that made me submit that application a few days ago, or was it just a pathetic attempt to cling to my old life? I was relieved that I hadn't heard back from the publisher and even more relieved that I hadn't had to tell Christian. If he knew… Well, he would think we were over.

And I didn't want that. But I also didn't know what I wanted…

"Let's talk over lunch, okay? Some of us are still working," I teased, putting my full attention on my inbox to illustrate my commitment to getting something done today. Scarlet, who had already given up on making me slack off, obliged.

Once alone at my desk, I put myself fully into my work, practically humming "on my way back to normal" on a loop. But it still didn't feel _normal_.

Fog thwarted my attempt to get through the manuscripts on my desk, and the characters on my laptop screen blurred together into one giant, awful email. I could practically hear a play-by-play accompanying every lackluster action of my day.

"_Lovesick woman sent that email to the wrong person." _

"_Another foul! Crumbled paper missed the recycling bin!" _

"_And there she goes again. Her classic mistake. Thinking normal was a real thing." _

"_Oooh, now here's the big moment. Is she getting out her phone to check the time or text Christian?"_

Fuck.

I dropped my phone back in my bag to resist temptation and forced myself to focus on the world in front of me.

But I missed him… I truly missed him.

He'd hardly been gone, but I felt an ache as if part of me was missing. Having him so close and then losing him stung worse than I expected. Just his presence calmed me. The problem with loving someone and telling them to go was that you never really wanted them to go.

Selfishly, I didn't want to want him. I didn't want to be upset. I didn't want to need therapy after a traumatic incident. I didn't want any of these changes. I was just so afraid of losing myself…

"_Ana_."

"What?" I jumped in surprise, automatically assuming a professional demeanor that didn't scream _"I've been thinking about Christian all morning." _

"You're running late. You have a meeting you need to get to. I texted you a reminder," Curtis was nearly out of breath, holding the second round of Starbucks I'd sent him out for, "Everything okay?"

I both hate Christian and love him with every fiber of my body. But other than that, ridiculously distracted.

"Everything's great," I lied, fumbling for my phone, "Totally on the ball. But, just to clarify, what meeting?"

* * *

**So they're both upset, missing each other, and insanely unproductive. I wanted to use this chapter to show how they are both feeling after **_**the conversation**_** and demonstrate how similar they really are. **

**Again, still toying with the storyline plan, but I think I have the perfect set up right now. Friday is not usually my publishing day, but with assignments and rewrites, I wanted to get the chapter out as soon as possible. However, I think the length makes up for the wait. **

**Have a good weekend!**

**HAWTgeek**


	30. Fifty Shades of Ordinary Thursdays

**Fifty Shades of Secrets**

**Chapter 30: Fifty Shades of "Ordinary Thursdays"**

* * *

_**Anastasia Steele**_,

The problem with "ordinary Thursdays" is that they were never ordinary.

The more I searched for "ordinary," the more I realized it never existed to begin with. As the rest of the world zipped around me, everyone seemed to have a rhythm. They had a set destination. They knew what was waiting for them once they got there. But I was in limbo. The harder I tried to return to my old life, it just stretched further out of reach.

From my workplace expectations to my morning routine, everything was skewed by some unknown force I was forever trying to identify. Had the world changed, or had I? Was being with Christian this life altering?

Though hardly comforting, my therapist was full of suggesting. Her favorite was my denial and fear of uncertainty. After urging me to regale my entire life story, she surmised that I was still like the thirteen-year-old girl watching her parents' divorce and picking sides. I thought that was bullshit. My fear of uncertainty, however, was far more telling. When things became uncertain, my first instinct was to run (something that my therapist fittingly blamed on my mother). Once combined with PTSD and miscommunication, it was a recipe for disaster.

I knew that I was at fault, too. I knew that Christian had his reasons, though I disagreed with them. I knew that my charade fooled none. I knew that I loved him and that I wanted to work things out. But it scared me.

I didn't feel like me anymore. Whereas throwing myself into my work had been a successful coping mechanism in the past, I could hardly get through a meeting without messing something up. The manuscripts I'd fought for seemed meaningless compared to the larger picture. Even the bright lights of New York City were dulled.

My engraved name on the office door didn't give its usual thrill. If anything, being in the office dampened my spirits. Not only was I surrounded by change and Christian's influence, I was trapped in a glass box with _that_ email. The email back from the publisher I'd applied to. By the eager subject line and my overqualification for the position, I knew what was inside of it, but I couldn't will myself to open it. Hell, I couldn't even my open my email box all together without waiting for his name to pop up.

Mia called on Wednesday.

It was the first time she'd actually been mad at me, but I didn't blame her. I already knew that I hurt Christian in ways I'd always regret, and hearing it from his loving sister only underscored how deeply this affected him.

And I couldn't do it anymore. Alone time offered no solace. There was enlightenment earned by loneliness. Only a sad two-year-old missing his daddy and a pathetic twenty-five-year-old missing his daddy, too. A hundred times, I'd started to call, and when he called me, I almost poured my heart out. It was Tuesday, however, that I realized the awful truth. He knew about my application to another publisher. I didn't know how he knew, and he never directly said it, but the betrayal was obvious.

Christian picked Leila over me, and I picked myself (and New York) over him. We were even in ways I never wanted to be. I longed for the simplicity of the lipstick and the shower, and I wondered how much better our life would have been if I had succumbed to my desires and stayed in Seattle permanently that weekend. Right now, we could be designing renovations to our family home. Instead, we were miscommunicating, fighting, and sulking.

At this point, the only way I reminded myself to eat in my depression was by remembering how furious Christian would be if he found out I stopped. Elle was insistent to accompany every single day to the deli across the street, and it was only today that she caved and allowed me to walk alone. To be fair, it was with the bribe of an extra cookie upon my return.

Even in the elevator, I compulsively checked my phone to see if I had a new message from him. I was dying to hear something, even if he was chewing me out for betraying his trust and sending out a resume without consulting our custody agreement. But still, _nothing_. In fact, I was so entranced by my smartphone that I didn't notice the other person until a squeaky voice piped up from the back.

"Such bad receptions in elevators, right?" the tiny woman offered a warm smile, and appreciating I was busted, I awkwardly put my phone in my pocket.

"Yeah, so bad," I agreed.

"So, you work here?" the woman didn't give up on small talk.

"Uh, yeah… You?" I clearly wasn't in the mood. It was hard enough remembering to eat. I didn't want to debate the weather and discuss elevator pet peeves.

"No, not yet. Applying through. I'm Jen. Jen Anderson. Bad relationship in Seattle, so I thought I would get a fresh start here," Jen didn't seem to know when to shut up, so I just smiled softly and turned back to the elevator doors. I thought it would end the conversation, but clearly, it didn't, "Are you from there? You have the accent."

"Accent?" I looked over, my smile growing more strained, "I didn't know Seattle had much of an accent."

"It's subtle but definitely there," Jen grinned, "It's super cool to run into someone from Seattle. I almost never do. Hey, we should get lunch together, right? Seattle girls need to stick together."

Finally, the elevator doors parted, and thinking that it was a release from the awkward conversation, I started to the main exit. It was only when I reached the door that I realized Jen was hot on my train. Annoyed that with her refusal to take a hint, I countered, "Honestly, I'm working right now and will be right back up for a meeting. Thank you, though. Good luck with the job."

Jen sped up to keep one foot ahead of me. Her determination was unsettling, and with every passing second, I wanted to get farther away from her.

"I'm sorry, I'm really bothering you. How about I make up for it with a cab to wherever you're going? I'm using my phone to find a place to eat anyways, so we can go in any direction."

_What the fuck_?Tourists could be clingy, especially if they found a similar trait to focus on, but they were often too preoccupied with their trip to perpetuate an unrequited connection. It was especially odd considering we'd only just met. It wasn't like she was an old college roommate hoping to get a favor from me or even an old boyfriend hoping to screw for old times' sake.

We were strangers. And she was becoming the definition of stranger danger.

"That's very generous of you, but no thank you. Really, go ahead,' I regretted not bringing Elle along.

Jen Anderson held the door for me, another creepy courtesy, but she didn't give me the chance to get a running head start away from her. Instead, she stood on the edge of the sidewalk staring at me like a pitiful puppy begging me for help. My instincts urged me to turn around with my tail between my legs to ask my bodyguard to accompany me, but instead, I developed a false sense of safety given the buildings security. So, I stood in the middle of the sidewalk and awaited whatever ridiculous request she would pose next.

"Listen, I'm so sorry to bother you. I'm just nervous after my interview," Jen nervously tucked her hair behind her ear and motioned towards the street, "I'm just so overwhelmed here. Can you tell me which way Central Park is? I'm flying out tomorrow morning and want to see if before I go."

Finally, a normal tourist question.

This I could handle. It was not unusual for a fanny-pack tourist to flag down a local for insider tips and directions to navigate our city, though I have no idea why they thought I could direct them to every restaurant in Times Square. Jen underscored a big perk of living in Seattle as opposed to New York, and it was one I had underestimated. The big tourist attraction could be seen from across the entire city, keeping irritating tourist interactions at bay.

Yes, the process of directing Jen was undesirable, but her explanation was one I could understand. Though eerily clingy, the ordeal was close to over, and causing a scene outside of my office would only extend it. So, I politely stepped toward her and pointed in the direction of the famous park.

As I began the directions to Central Park, the city continued to zoom past, forcing me closer to the edge of the sidewalk. Interns crowded the front door, returning with feasts of Chinese food and vegan juices for their superiors. Their return only reminded me of how much time I was wasting with this woman, but I persevered. However, while Jen rattled off questions easily answered by Google Maps, my attention wandered to the sea of interns.

As a rule, I liked to avoid shoving obligations and lunch orders off on interns. I knew that I was lucky as hell to have my position at such a young age, and had luck not been in my favor, I could still be the overworked intern with a child to raise. Chase, one of the interns on my floor, stood out among the rest as they weaved their way into the building. Standing at 6'5, you couldn't miss him, which was probably why he was the first to be handed every flop of a manuscript and long lists of coffee orders. But standing with Jen, I desperately wished I'd hunted him down like all of the others on my floor and begged him to pick up my lunch instead of venturing out myself.

"Jen, there you are!" Chase called out, offering a wink to the petite woman standing in front of me.

Jen? He was talking to _Jen_.

Immediately halting my instructions, I turned back to her, allowing my happy façade to falter. Did Chase know her? From what was overheard at the water cooler, Chase's only friends in New York were people he met in the office. So, how the hell would he know this Seattle native on a layover for an interview? "I thought you said you _just _finished your interview," I took a step back onto the sidewalk, fully evaluating the woman I was looking at.

"This is ridiculous," I shook my head, furious at myself, _"Goodbye."_ Courtesy wasn't enough of an excuse to stay any longer, and without waiting for any clarification, I started towards the crosswalk to resume my afternoon.

But that didn't happen.

"_I'm so sorry."_

They were the last words I could clearly make out before her hand gripped my wrist and forced me to the street. Instinctively, I pushed back to get to the sidewalk and away from oncoming traffic, but because my back was turned through the majority of my directions, I hadn't noticed the average sedan sitting idly on the curb, nor did I notice her open the car door when she grabbed my wrist.

Being thrown into the car was a blur only interrupted by the sharp pain of landing headfirst on the inside door handle. Cradling the back of my head, I scrambled to sit up and understand what was happening. But by the time I could see out of the windows, the car was already weaving through New York traffic at an alarming speed. I tried at the door handle I'd just landed on, but the lock refused to budge. Hoping to try the other side, I turned and found myself staring deep down the barrel of a handgun.

Holy shit.

The reality of what just happened sank in, forcing panic to rise in my chest.

I was being abducted.

"Is that a fucking gun?" I swallowed, pushing myself to the other side of the backseat as I tried to make sense of everything. I'd been taken from a sidewalk and distinctly remembered screaming once thrown inside of the car. And it was in front of my office. Surely, I'd been noticed, and traffic wasn't conducive to a high-speed chase.

And what the fuck kind of luck was this? You typically only had one life-threatening event where a weapon was being waved in front of your face by a crazy woman, but I'd had two in the last month.

"I am so sorry, Anastasia," Jen's voice shook just as violently as her gun, leaving her instability a further threat.

_She is going to shoot me. Holy Shit, she is going to shoot me!_ I struggled to stay calm as I stared at the gun, watching every twitch of her finger while it rested on the trigger. I needed to talk her down. I could talk her out of it. Maybe I could talk myself free….

Naïve hope fueled me as I stretched out a hand to calmly take the gun from her, but once my fingers brushed the barrel, her finger slipped in alarm. The shot missed me and shot through the glass of the car window, forcing shards of glass to shatter on the payment and whip across my skin. Letting out a whimper of terror, I quickly retracted my hand and slid closer to the broken window.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, she shot the gun. Was her intention to shoot me? Why wouldn't she just do it at the office if she wanted to kill me? Maybe she wanted to get me out of town to do the deed. She knew my name, so this must have been a planned event. She wasn't a serial killer who picked random people dumb enough to not run away from her.

Glass shards on the door dug into my back, ripping my silk shirt and pressing into my skin. I pressed further, trying to focus myself on the situation and not my anxiety. Perhaps the car window was a method of escape. I could just shimmy out of the car window and roll to safety on the payment. If anything, a shot and broken glass would alert someone to rescue me, and the police were already on their way.

Pragmatism argued with me. If she just shot her car, she wasn't going to look away long enough to let me get out, and she would shoot me before I could even reach the pavement. Hell, once the police arrived, she might just shoot me to get the job done.

"Give me your phone," Jen demanded, cracking on the last word.

I hesitated, gripping the edge of my smartphone until the tips of my fingertips turned white. This could be my saving grace. I couldn't hand it over.

"I said, _give it to me_," Jen's voice quaked with anger, and watching her finger slip again, I quickly shoved my phone at her and watched her tuck it beneath her leg. "Alright," Jen struggled to compose herself, and her labored breaths interrupted her speech, "Don't try anything, or I'll shoot again. Do you understand?"

"Why are you doing this?" I searched her eyes for clues. A petite blonde was hardly Christian's type, so surely, I wasn't dealing with another lunatic ex.

"He's making me," Jen's anxiety continued to escalate, allowing a tear to slide down her cheek as the car increased its speed, "I am so sorry. I am _so _sorry."

He? Who was he? And how could he have this much power over her? And most importantly, why the hell did he want me to be abducted?

Carefully, I shifted my eyes to the driver's seat to see if "he" was the one really abducting me, but the driver was a woman, disguised by oversized sunglasses and an extra large hoodie. Unable to see through the dark garment or tempt her to shift her face for a better look, I could only tell that the driver was more intent on taking me than Jen was. I didn't know which was worse, an unsympathetic driver with controls to the speed and locks or the nervous kidnapper with a gun in the backseat.

"Who is he?" I whispered.

Waiting for her answer, my life flashed before my eyes. My darling Teddy could grow up without a mother, and the thought of never seeing him again forced tears to my eyes. Christian would bury me before hearing my explanation and apology, and I would never reconcile the pain I'd caused him. My arms quaked as I sat up further, hoping for eye-to-eye with my abductor.

If she could see how distraught I was, perhaps her reservations would tilt her to my side.

"I can't tell you," Jen shook her head violently.

"Yes, you can. You don't have to do this. He can't make you do this," I assured her, realizing I was begging for my life, and I resisted the urge to wipe away my spilling tears, "You can stop the car and let me go. I won't tell anyone. You can just leave. Nobody will get hurt. I promise."

Jen seriously considered the offer for a moment, her face lighting up with the possibility of a peaceful conclusion, and had the driver not suddenly swerved to avoid a car, I thought she would have granted my wish and calmly released me. Alas, the sudden jolt introduced fresh adrenaline to Jen's sensitive mindset, and once again, the gun was firmly aimed at my head.

"I can't," Jen raised her jaw, looking down at me with fear and pity that was clearly aimed at the both of us, "Give me your hands." Jen rummaged in her pocket for an unknown restraint, and I was both terrified and relieved that Jen lacked experience in kidnapping. No experience meant she wasn't good at it. But not being good at it could also get me killed.

Breathing felt impossible as I watched the gun, knowing that her next startle would orphan Theodore. Despite my fear, I couldn't take the risk of injury and hurting Theodore by not being present. My perfect, sweet baby boy deserved a mother, and I had to make sure his survived the afternoon.

Obeying, I offered my hands joined securely at the wrist, awaiting my restraint.

_Hoooonnnkkkkkkk._

The sound jolted the passengers of this black sedan, making me gasp and allowing Jen's aim to wander. To avoid the oncoming car, our mysterious driver swerved and sent the unbuckled backseat into freefall. Both of us were thrown in different directions, giving me the perfect opportunity. Noting that her gun was now pointed at the sunroof instead of me, I swiftly knocked the gun out of her hand. Her shock sent another bullet into the car, this time poking a hole in the polished roof of the car, and as she screamed bloody murder, I used the momentum of the turn to let my leg kick her square in the face.

Scrambling for the gun in the floorboard, I dropped to the floor of the car and promptly pointed the gun right back at Jen as soon as it was securely in my grasp. I'd expected Jen to be hindered by surprise but royally pissed at what I had done, but to my disbelief, she remained motionless, blood pouring out of her nose.

"Oh my God," I covered my mouth in horror, frantically looking around the car to find any hidden attackers. and zoning into the driver, I forced the barrel of the gun to the back of her head, "Who. The. Fuck. Are. You?" I pressed the barrel deeper into the scalp before pulling back and grappling for the phone beneath Jen's thigh.

"_Put the gun down_," anger and fear distorted the voice, allowing me only the vague confirmation that it was a woman in the front seat.

Not wasting time, I dialed the 911 and held the phone with one hand while aiming the gun with another. "I'm calling the police. Stop this fucking car and let me out. I'll let you go." I wasn't in any place to make demands. As the abducted woman in the backseat, I was waving an unfamiliar weapon and hoping that any shot to the head was as fatal as on _Law and Order_.

"Put the gun down!" the anger was stronger, forcing the driver to whip around to face me for the first time, and I gasped in disgust.

It was Elizabeth Morgan.

My old boss at SIP.

What the fuck was she doing here? Why had she taken me?

These questions remained unanswered because, with Morgan's eyes off the road, only I could see the truck coming right at our car. Unable to get the words out fast enough to warn my driver, the two cars collided. My last sight was watching Elizabeth Morgan's head go straight to the steering wheel as the gun and phone splice through the front glass.

Then the world turned to black.

* * *

Words.

I could hear words.

Vaguely, I registered them, but they were out of reach. They swarmed together into unintelligible sentences, and despite my best efforts, I slipped in and out of consciousness. Though my eyes never opened, the background noise helped me recognize my surroundings as a hospital. After who knows how long, the phrases stringed together into understandable sentences. Trying to coax myself into full function, I attempted to connect the person to their statements.

"_I'm trying to get her mom on the phone_." Familiar male voice. It had to be Curtis, though it was too muffled to be sure.

"_I came as soon as I could. I didn't bring Teddy up because I was worried she might be in too bad of shape for him to see,_" This was…Essie? Yes, Essie. I couldn't believe how happy I was at Essie's decision. After how she'd inappropriately questioned me about Leila in front of Teddy, I was relieved she didn't bring him up to see me.

How bad of shape was in? I couldn't move or fight to keep conscious. Obviously, my condition wasn't ideal.

"_No, ma'am, we have no indicator of when she will wake up."_ Another male voice, but it wasn't Curtis. It was too deep to be his.

"_Of course, I called him. He's coming_." This time, it was Curtis.

My concept of time was skewed, but by the noise change, the day had shifted to a less busy time when my consciousness returned. I assumed that it was now night, though I had no way of knowing. By now, I could manage conversations.

"_You're family?" _the unknown male voice from before returned, and his skepticism was evident in his voice. Obviously, he didn't believe that the person he was talking to was truly a family member. Who could it be?

"_Yes," _Christian. It's Christian. Oh thank God he's here.

"_Well then, she's incredibly lucky, Mr. Grey. Accidents of this nature can be very deadly, especially given she was in the backseat," _this context assisted me in identifying the speaker. It had to be a doctor or nurse or some form of health care provider to be giving Christian my condition, _"Mild concussion, and most likely, she'll suffer from bruised ribs. Some small cuts and bruising, but so far, she's in good condition. The trauma to the brain, however, placed her in a coma."_

A deep sigh, undoubtedly Christian's. _"Do we know when she'll wake up?"_ he was upset. I tried to fight against the fog to reach out to him, but if anything, I just slipped deeper in.

"_Comas are unpredictable, and therefore, I cannot offer you an estimation on when she will wake," _the doctor's voice faded out until I was enclosed by the darkness and silence again.

When I regained consciousness, I struggled to understand the time lapse. It was nearly silent in the hospital room, only the machines making the occasional noise, so again, it had to be night. But was it the same night, or had I missed much more than just a few hours? Considering all of my information on comas stemmed from soap operas, I knew nothing about my own condition. So, I just prayed that some soap opera writer out there decided I was necessary to a new plot line and revived my character.

"_Mom, we weren't even talking at the time," _Christian's voice surprised me, _"No, not like that. She left me."_ Oh fuck. In the haze of this situation, I'd forgotten what terms we were on. For a while, Christian carried on what seemed to be a phone call. I never heard another voice, but Christian responded to unheard questions. Either he was calling his mom, or my attention was so exclusive that I couldn't hear her voice.

Another loss of consciousness, and when it returned, it was still quiet in the room. My patience grew thin. There was no much I wanted to say, so much I wanted to know, and so much I wanted to do. My car accident was hazy, meaning I was full of questions. Had my attacker been caught? Did they even realize I'd been abducted, or did they think I was in an Uber ride gone wrong?

Most importantly, how was Teddy? Had he seen me like this? Did he know his mommy was hurt? I needed to have him with me and know that he was perfectly alright, and I needed to know that my attack hadn't somehow damaged him. Teddy had to know that his mommy was alright and would always be there for him. And Christian needed to know that I loved him.

Fuck, I just needed to wake up.

And then I did.

As I blinked my eyes open, I warily adjusted to the dim hospital room. I was right about the time of day. It was the middle of the night, maybe even later. The hospital floor was silent. Even the street noise below was blocked, but I could still see the skyline through the thin curtains. The sterile white seemed gray in the darkness, though my darling Teddy Grey was nowhere to be seen.

Surely, he was asleep. But where? It would have been understandable for Essie to take Theodore back to his own room at the apartment, but instinctively, I wanted him close after everything that had happened. Speaking of everything that happened, Elle was also not in the hospital room. Nobody was except…

Christian. He had dozed off on an extremely uncomfortable armchair, placing himself in an even more uncomfortable position with his leg over on the chair arm and his head precariously propped on the wooden edge of the back. This tangled mess was so different from the _Fifty_ I'd interviewed in college, and this revelation forced tears to my eyes. Before my single tear could progress into bawling, Christian's head shifted, and his eyes briefly opened as he twisted himself further in the chair.

"Christian," I croaked, my throat dry.

"Ana!" Christian's voice choked, and even from across the dark room, I could see relief fill his expression. Hurriedly untangling himself, he rushed to my bedside. His hand rested on my cheek as he examined me, his breath getting heavier as he whispered, "You're awake. I didn't know if you'd ever wake up, Ana."

Putting my hand on his took most of my remaining energy, and without the energy to avoid crying, tears spilled down my cheeks. "Where is Teddy?"

"He went home," Christian sniffled, nearly laughing in what seemed to be heavenly relief. "Essie is spending the night with him. I promise, Teddy's okay."

I'd spent so long worrying about changing Teddy's last name and acclimating him to a new family dynamic, and now, these worries were minuscule. Today, I almost orphaned the most important thing in my life. That gun barely missed me. I confronted the driver of an erratic vehicle and caused a car accident, and I wasn't even wearing a seat belt. Tonight, I was supposed to be in the morgue, not a hospital bed.

By now, I wasn't even sure that I could call them tears. It was more like a tropical storm flowing from my tear ducts. I choked on my sob, only finding words when Christian's arms were wrapped around me in comfort.

"She nearly killed me," my voice waivered, interrupted by my sobs and disbelief, "That gun hit the glass behind me. It was supposed to hit me, and that car accident. I had the gun to that driver's head. What was I thinking?" I watched as Christian's head appeared from the hug, horrified but not shocked at this information, "Christian, Teddy wouldn't have had a mom. He wouldn't have had me. How could I do this to him? How could I not think about my own safety? I just trusted. The red flags were there, and I just…."

"Shhh," Christian whispered, stroking my hair, "You are okay. The doctor said you'll be fine. Just bruised ribs and a concussion, both of which will heal. Teddy has a mom. A perfect mom, and he is safe. He can't even get juice without security guards in a huddle around him."

I expected Christian to laugh at his joke, but I quickly realized he wasn't joking.

"I would never let anything happen to both of you. I love you both so much," Christian couldn't finish the sentiment without his voice choking. Violently, his eyes shut tight as his expression twisted into self-loathing, "I let you get hurt. This is my fault. I am so sorry, Anastasia."

"No," I tried to sit up, but a sharp pain in my ribs knocked me back down. I reached for his hand, intertwining our fingers and squeezing, "You didn't do this. This is not your fault. None of it is your fault. I couldn't blame you. I have never blamed you before now, and I never will."

Beneath his self-inflicted barriers, I could see the pain. And I'd helped make it. I'd shoved him further into his self-loathing, which is something I never meant to do. I'd promised him to stay, and I left.

"Christian, I didn't mean to leave you." I didn't mean to say it either. I'd hoped for something more eloquent or with better timing, but in my position, time wasn't a given anymore, "I wish I could take it back. I was afraid of change and uncertainty, but none of that really matters. I love you so much."

"I love you, too, Anastasia," Christian had set it before, but it still took me by surprise. Despite everything that happened in between, I'd gotten what I'd desperately wanted at twenty-two, Christian's love.

"End of break?" I whispered, struggling not to collapse into the basket case I really was.

"How can you think about that at time like this?" Christian's surprise bordered on irritation, though I recognized it as panic. He was terrified. We both were terrified.

"If anything can show us what really matters, it is this, Christian, and now that the future is less of a given, I want to make sure that we spend our time focusing on us and Teddy," I squeezed his hand, desperate for confirmation that we would be okay. "There are issues we need to solve, but I want to solve them. And I just got out of a coma, so you can at least tell me if you want to, too." I wiped at my eyes, but the effort was in vain. I was a blubbering, crying mess.

"Anastasia Steele, I am never losing you again, and no more damn breaks, okay?" Christian's voice was stern, "Now stop trying to die on me." Christian found more success in wiping away tears, freeing himself of them before they could even make it past his cheek, but to make up for it, I just cried more.

With my arms wrapped around his neck, the terror and stress of the day finally released into the most unattractive sob of my life. But I still had Christian, and for the first time, I realized I would always have Christian. When the world went to hell, he was there, and I could shed my role of protector because he was the one wanting to protect me.

And I loved him so, so much.

* * *

***Drops the Mic* **

**Before you begin on the story getting "off track" from how it started, I want to say that this was always the plan. I have notes dating back to the beginning that the danger from FDF would be incorporated. This is what I have been toying with, and even after planning, I went back and forth on how this chapter would turn out. My first draft was too long, so I considered a cliffhanger. So, the I know I am going to get heat for this, but I like how it turned out and do hope that you do, too.**

**Below, I have included a message about frequently asked questions, another note about inappropriate reviews, and a reminder of how much I love my readers. But other than that, remember to review, favorite, and follow. **

**Happy St. Patrick's Day**

* * *

_Dear Commenters,_

_The more reviews I read, the more I see that this story is thought-provoking, and as a writer, this brings me great joy. I appreciate that many readers have come up with their own version of how this story should be written, but as the author, I maintain my right to drive the plot as I see fit. However, I would like to address recurring questions._

_-Yes, this was always the plan. No, I am not on drugs. From chapter one, I always knew that Leila would attack Ana and that their relationship would be put into question. I also knew that (much like in the original books) there would be attempts on Anastasia's life, much like you have seen in this chapter._

_-Yes, this will have a happy ending. Personally, I enjoy writing this, and when it comes to fanfiction, I have my own personal writing style. I do have other original works that have a definite beginning, climax, and ending. But this story is structured to be dramatic with shocking twists. It is not a story flaw but a personal choice._

_-No, you are not always supposed to like the characters. You can disagree with things they do. That's the point. I want real characters, not perfect specimens._

_Once more, purposefully mean comments are inappropriate, immature, and unnecessary. If you don't want to keep reading, just stop. I am getting tired of readers going on a tirade, saying they won't read anymore, but reviewing the next chapter within 24 hours of its release. And if this story is not enjoyable to you, by all means, find something that is. I want everyone to find a good fit on._

_But I would like to underscore that has a great community, and I love my readers. Your support and constructive criticism are appreciated, but as you can imagine, I do not like the string of insults anonymously posted on this story. I do not want to seem like I hate my readers or their comments. I love you guys!_


	31. Fifty Shades of Healing

**Fifty Shades of Secrets**

_**Chapter 31: Fifty Shades of Healing**_

* * *

_**Christian Grey**_,

_4:00 AM_ blinked back at me from across the room. The digital clock allowed me to track my worst nightmare.

By New York time, it was one in the afternoon when my dutiful assistant, Olivia, interrupted my first productive meeting in weeks for a phone call from New York. For a moment, out of pure anger, I thought about forcing the call to voicemail and returning it afterward to "get even" for being put on break. But as soon as I'd accepted the call from Curtis, I hated myself for even thinking about avoiding this call. Once I had confirmation that Teddy was alright and Anastasia in stable condition, I set out to get to New York.

It was two when the plane got in the air. Taylor was my first call, and in conjunction with Olivia, he organized my departure. Mrs. Jones helpfully packed a bag and fought tears as she handed it to me, which contributed to my fear. The flight was tediously long, and not having access to my phone further concerned me.

Finally, I reached New York, but it was much later in the night than I'd hoped it would be. Reaching the hospital took another hour, but when I arrived, Anastasia was still unconscious. While part of me wanted to be fully involved in whatever was happening, I'd hoped that, during my ordeal of a trip, Anastasia would awake and establish a stable condition. But she hadn't. After briefly spending time with me, Teddy was taken home for rest.

It was eleven when Curtis called it a night, and I was alone in the hospital room. I'd wrestled with guilt and gut-wrenching fear as I realized that this was my worst nightmare. Not only had Anastasia nearly died, some Son of a Bitch had purposefully kidnapped and tried to kill her. While she went through hell, I was clueless on the other side of the country.

It was midnight when I called my mom. Dialing the number, I'd thought I would only inform her of the tragedy and inquire further on the doctor's diagnosis, but instead, I'd finally cracked. Divulging my awful behavior, my worst fears, and the state of my relationship with Ana, a weight had been temporarily lifted and then replaced with something far worse.

I could lose Ana, truly lose her. In the last week, my concept of "losing her" was limited in scope. At the time, my worst nightmare was her ending our relationship and beginning a life separate from me. I'd worried about watching her begin other relationships, arguing about custody, forcing awkward smiles and polite greetings at drop-offs, and pretending that I wasn't devastated. Despite her dangerous encounter with Leila, my self-pity blinded me.

My family's safety was not guaranteed. As had been proven today, Anastasia could be seriously injured or even killed. Sweet Theodore could face perils that babyproofing apartments could not remedy. Everything I loved could be taken away from me, and the reality of it was staggering.

"It's four in the morning, Anastasia. You are supposed to rest." It was not the first time I'd had to insist she sleep, and she'd only been awake an hour. We'd both been an embarrassing mess of tears and apologies when Nurse Enid first visited us. The nurse was visibly furious that I'd not immediately alerted her to Anastasia's change in condition, and through gritted teeth, she'd lectured me on the severity of the situation and my place in it.

The lecture was clearly unnecessary. I understood what happened and how powerless I was, and if her intention was to prove our dislike of each other, that was also unnecessary. Dr. Taylor, the unfortunate ER doctor responsible for my many questions, recognized that I deserved to be included on Anastasia's condition and ignored the obvious signs that I was not related or married to Anastasia. Nurse Enid, however, had every intention of blocking my access and begrudged my constant presence.

From then on, Nurse Enid and I had a mutual dislike of each other that only intensified once Anastasia woke up. She'd insisted I vacate the room and allow the patient to acclimate to consciousness, which Ana protested. When I didn't leave for her brief physical, I thought Enid would throw me right out the window.

But despite my distaste for the woman, we agreed on one thing. We were here to help Anastasia heal, even if our methods differed. And Anastasia did need rest. She'd been abducted, held at gunpoint, and narrowly avoided serious injuries during a head-on collision as an unbuckled backseat passenger. I didn't need to research it to know how dangerous head-on collisions were, but in the shroud of uncertainty and terror, I'd allowed myself to wander the reaches of the internet threatening to give me a heart attack with each horrifying headline. It was by only a few centimeters that Anastasia hadn't been fatally ejected from a front car window.

Now that Anastasia had the promise of living, I knew that there was no way in hell any Grey would ever be inside a vehicle without the safety of a seatbelt.

"Aren't you supposed to try to keep the patient happy?" Anastasia's smile permeated the dark hospital room, and for a moment, all was right.

But the moment ended, and the exhaustion was obvious in her crackling voice. A taxing day took its toll on Anastasia, so I reminded her, "Quite the opposite. I'm supposed to make sure the patient actually heals," I corrected, gently brushing her hair out of her face. She sighed, trading her fingers idly along the lines of my palm. Her gaze was so intent that I nearly expected her to predict my future from the indentions of my hand, but instead, she suddenly broke her trance and looked up at me with intensity.

"We didn't finish our conversation earlier," Anastasia instinctively started to sit up, but I placed my hand on her shoulder as a reminder to keep still. Movement was still tricky, and I couldn't bear to see her in pain.

"It's four in the morning," I didn't hesitate to motion to the clock again, but Anastasia didn't care. In her defense, after nearly dying, abiding by numbers on a clock seemed more ridiculous than necessary.

"Exactly, most open conversations take place either drunk or sleep deprived, and by the strength of these painkillers, I don't think I'm allowed to be drunk," Anastasia's smirk was pitifully weak. My darling girl was ill and refused to rest.

"Well, if we're not going out on a drinking tour of the city later tonight, we might as well get some sleep," I kept to my cause. WebMD assured me that rest was critical to recovery, and hippie websites with terrible fonts assured me that green juice would cure all woes. Until the nearest juicer opened, I was relegated to enforcing sleep.

"I'm being serious, Christian. We need to talk," Anastasia squeezed my hand, "I wanted to. Then we both started crying, and we were interrupted. But I need to say so much more."

"I know," I whispered, placing a reassuring kiss on her nose, "But the words will be there in the morning, and so will I. You're exhausted. Sleep."

Anastasia didn't heed my warning. In fact, she did the opposite. "Christian, I didn't mean to leave you." The words hung in the air long after she'd said them, and I sat stunned. When she said she wanted to talk, I'd expected to talk about better communication, residency, or even preschools. _Not_ this.

"I was scared, Christian," Anastasia gripped my hand tight, and from her expression, I worried we would both be crying by the end of this, "I thought that being alone would fix everything because that's what it did the last time. But it didn't. It never did, not even then. I missed you every day, but I was afraid of losing everything I was and that I knew. Leila heightened my insecurities. You made a mistake, but so did I." Anastasia hesitated before blurting out, "I applied to another publisher."

Fuck.

The admission left me speechless. It was not shocking. It wasn't even news, yet hearing her say it brought back the stabbing rejection of it. When I heard, I felt like my entire future with Anastasia had been snatched away from me with one resume. For days, Ros dropped it in conversation, unaware that Anastasia was the VP she was talking about, and every time, I felt like the wind was being knocked out of me. Sadness gripped me, ushering in self-doubt and self-hate.

Even now that Anastasia was mine again, it was hard to swallow.

"I know," I whispered, running my thumb along her hand. I did it partially to comfort myself and partially to comfort her as she fought remorseful tears.

"I was scared, and I thought having 'options' would help. But it was so fucking stupid. I didn't consult you or think about Teddy. I acted without thinking and regret it more than I can tell you," Anastasia shook her head, and seeing her plagued by such guilt made me want to end the conversation. But I knew we had to have it. So, instead of abruptly changing the subject or distracting her, I wiped the glistening tears from her cheek and let her continue. "Christian, we've both made mistakes. Neither of us are perfect. My fear of uncertainty ruled me, and I shouldn't have let it."

"Ana," my voice wavered, and I fleetingly wondered if she could see my pooling tears in the dim night, "I made the wrong choice with Leila. I thought I was protecting you, and I was appeasing my own guilt. But you and Teddy mean everything to me."

It was Anastasia's turn to say "I know." She began to stroke my hair with one hand and wipe away the tears with another, a task proving to be difficult in her weak state. I just wanted to make her better. I wanted to make it all better, but I didn't know how.

"This is all …" Anastasia was biting her lower lip, a habit I remembered from when I first met her, and I was suddenly awestruck with the reality that a person I'd coincidently met was the center of my world. Perhaps my sentimental thoughts forced me to expect similar expressions from Anastasia, but either way, I was knocked back when she said, "This is all really bullshit."

"What?" I couldn't help but laugh, and when I saw her smile through the dark, I made a mental note to laugh more.

"We're fighting because we're scared, and I don't want to anymore. I love you," Ana squeezed my hand softly as she added, "And I want to home to Seattle."

My smile nearly split my face in two, earning Anastasia's giggle, and I was unable to contain my excitement. "You and Teddy in Seattle? With me?" I clarified, not wanting to get my hopes up too high. If I could get her to Seattle, I didn't care if I had to buy all of Escala and let her pick any apartment in the building. I didn't care if she insisted on moving to the hipster side of town and started composting. I just wanted Anastasia.

"Of course, with you," Anastasia seemed almost as excited as me, only contributing to my wide grin, "I want the whole thing. Sleeping in the same room. Reading Teddy to sleep together. Fighting over closet space. Getting really acquainted with your shower…" Anastasia's wink was adorable, even if she was struggling to stay awake.

"You have a concussion, and your ribs are bruised. The only bedroom activity you are cleared for is sleeping," I motioned towards the clock, but now, the numbers didn't mean as much. They weren't ticking down to the moment I would ultimately lose Anastasia. They were counting the time we had together.

Anastasia pouted, reclining further into the plush pillows and harsh hospital sheets, "I haven't been able to sleep without you." Ana brought the blankets up to her jaw, her voice full of sleep as she added, "When I do fall asleep, I have nightmares."

Though horrified that Anastasia had been miserable, there was something reassuring about our nights being so similar. Thousands of miles apart, we'd spent the last through sleepless nights navigating nightmares, insomnia, and ever-present cell phones urging us to send one tiny text.

"What kind of nightmares?" I smoothed her hair, twisting my finger around a stray curl.

"Different things, all pretty silly," she shrugged, "Though I distinctly remember Megan Fox proposing to you."

"Really?" I laughed, relieved that her nightmares were far less severe than mine.

"I lost you in all of them," Anastasia admitted, "This weekend, I was going to apologize and try to work everything out with you, but I was so terrified I'd already burned the bridge. You're going to think I'm crazy, but I watched Friends because that seemed to be the only show where a _break_ ended well."

I started to laugh, thinking about the binge session I'd attempted with Friends, but I gave up before I even reached the season where Ros and Rachel began their "break."

"So did I."

Anastasia's eyes widened, and she was unable to keep from laughing, "You? _Christian Grey_? You watched Friends?"

"Is that so hard to believe?" I countered.

"Yes," Anastasia didn't hesitate.

Likewise, I didn't hesitate to revert to our original topic, "Miss Steele, I have a nagging suspicion that you are trying to procrastinate going to sleep."

"Sleep with me."

My surprise was evident, "What?"

"Please," Ana shifted and padded the side of the bed, "Just to help me sleep." Anastasia pouted, her big blue eyes shining through the room, and I sat in silence as I tried to come up with a compelling enough argument. She had an IV, and her nurse would kill me if she found out.

But Ana almost died. For a while, I didn't think I would ever get to sleep next to her again, and she needed the reassurance as much as I did. Surely, I could sneak out of her bed once she'd fallen asleep… but I knew I wouldn't.

"Just this once," I whispered, sliding next to her and rubbing smoothing circles on her back. Anastasia's head rested on my chest, her hair a wild mess of untamed curls and sleepless as messy as the day I met her, and I couldn't have loved them more. Slowly, the rise and fall of her chest evened, and her tense posture relaxed as sleep relieved her pain.

The entire time, I promised myself that I would get up and let her sleep like she was supposed to, but I never did. Not even Nurse Enid made me get up when she peaked in, though she obviously wanted to. Because honestly, pain and fear had twisted my wonderful Anastasia, and this was the first time we'd seen her relax. And, as I held her close, I realized it was the first time I was relaxed, too…

* * *

_**Anastasia Steele**_**,**

When the morning nurse woke me for the first round of medication, her small talk consisted of assuring me that being on the fourth floor allowed for rest and healing, even adding the typical "you'll be better before you know it" line before disappearing to the next patient in need of pain meds. According to the brochure Curtis had snagged from the lobby, this hospital offered the best care in the city, fit with newly renovated patient rooms and abundant natural light.

But I suppose that being kidnapped and nearly killed trumped brochure claims, and my day was hardly relaxing.

My only moment of pure bliss was falling asleep with Christian at four thirty in the morning. We'd been cleansed of our mistakes and disagreements, and prepared to begin our relationship anew, I was full of love and happiness. But once I finally succumbed into slumber, the day blurred into one messy montage of frantic phone calls, overly scented flowers, and concerned visits.

My mother was the first to call. Naturally, there was a husband-related emergency that left her chained to Savannah, and she excused her absence by reminding me that her third marriage was on shaky ground. Towards the end of the short conversation, she asked about her grandson, and as an afterthought, she inquired as to my condition and was satisfied to find out I wasn't dying. Christian looked furious throughout the entire exchange, but he kept it to himself.

The day was easier to take with Christian by my side. With Christian's concern to back me up, I didn't feel guilty about asking Curtis to cancel all of my meetings and refuse phone calls, and I could bear the constant reminders from the nurses that I wouldn't be able to pick up my son for a few weeks. However, running on three hours of sleep in the most uncomfortable chair I'd ever seen didn't do Christian well, and in his best interest, I insisted he go back to the apartment to at least get a shower.

While he was gone, the next call from Mia. She was rushed mess of distress, inquiring if I was alright and if Teddy was alright and assuring me that the entire Grey family was worried. The coolness between the two of us melted when she found out that Christian and I had worked it out, and she offered to fly out with a box of German chocolate cupcakes. Kate's call wasn't as easy to take. Swamped under wedding details, this added stress seemed like the catalyst to Kate's impending breakdown, and our talk ended when she started yelling at a florist. Essie's call was the easiest, however. Despite being obviously shaken, Essie kept it together and obliged my insistence to find out every single thing Teddy had done while I was in the hospital.

Scarlet was the first visit aside from Curtis, and by the end of it, I expected her to tell Nurse Enid where to go and how to get there. With a contraband latte in hand, she asked for every detail I was willing to give but held back on what I wasn't ready to talk about, and Scarlet even accepted defeat when I told her that she was wrong about breaks meaning break ups. Truthfully, she looked happy for me on that front, and on the other, she was horrified and fuming. She offered to find out more about Jen, but I told not to worry.

It still left me shaken that it happened. The police were working on this. The people were responsible were either dead or injured somewhere in this hospital with me. I hadn't seen Elle all day and assumed that Christian had probably fired her for something that wasn't her fault. I was seriously injured and couldn't even lift my son. Even in the hospital, surrounded by reminders, it was easy to forget how crazy it all really was.

Eventually, Scarlet had to leave, and for the first time, I was alone. I didn't know if I should sleep or keep busy, so I watched the window. Loneliness allowed me to fully appreciate my injuries, and holy hell, I felt awful. The concussion left a lingering headache, and with the pain killers starting to dull, breathing was painful. I didn't like being in the hospital. After deciding to go to Seattle, staying in New York felt like a punishment. My bustling city didn't seem so perfect from this angle. It was dangerous and loud and a reminder of all of the bad things that happened.

Before I could lose my patience and bug a nurse about wanting to leave, Christian came through my door, and finally, I felt settled again. Christian, on the other hand, was horrified.

"You were alone?" Christian nearly dropped his steaming cup of black coffee as he rushed to my bedside.

"I'm a big girl. I can be alone and not even set the room on fire now," I teased, "Sometimes, I can go a whole night without a babysitter."

Christian shook his head, kissing my forehead, "I can tell the concussion has not hindered your sarcasm, Miss Steele."

"I think the lack of coffee is making it worse though," I eyed his cup of coffee. Nurse Enid's complaints kept Scarlet from giving me the latte she'd tried to sneak into the hospital, and with my caffeine addiction, I was dying for a cup of coffee.

"If you're tired, you're supposed to sleep."

"You're not sleeping," I complained. He'd slept even less than me. After convincing him to get into bed with me, I'd slept soundly, but before I got up, he'd gotten breakfast and was doing everything he possibly could. He told me that jet lag kept him up and that it was alright, which was bullshit. I knew he was exhausted, but at least _he_ got coffee.

"I'm not the one in the hospital," he took a victorious sip of his coffee, "Besides, you used to prefer tea."

"Tea is far superior in taste, but with a kid, I don't mind drinking black tar if it wakes me up," I pouted, shifting in bed and suppressing the wince. I needed to keep moving, but it seemed to hurt more each time. Christian was pained just watching me, so I happily changed the subject, "You smell good. Thank God."

"That's enough, Anastasia," Christian's smile returned, "You can admit you are in pain. You don't have to be strong for everyone."

"I'm tired," I confessed, playing with his fingers, "Someone kept me up all night."

"Now, when I imagined keeping you up all night, I had something much more fun in mind," Christian smirked, and I swatted his arm.

I shook my head, sighing as I added, "It's silly, but… I just want to leave, you know? I want to be home."

"I know," Christian gently squeezed my hand, "You should be able to leave tomorrow morning, and I've set up my office so I can stay in town. I'm not leaving you."

"Honestly," I bit my lip, knowing how ridiculous it sounded as I said, "I want to go back to Seattle. After everything… I don't really want to be in New York right now."

I expected Christian to laugh or be excited, but he genuinely mulled over my words, taking them seriously. It was probably better to face my fears and regain my sense of safety in New York from a mental health standpoint, but my life was moving to Seattle. I wanted to start over, and I didn't want to wait to be able to do it.

"I'll see what I can do, okay?" Christian smiled, and I could practically hear him chasing down the doctor for even more questions. After this, I couldn't imagine him as a patient because he was so nervous at my bedside.

I smiled in thanks, giving the coffee one last lingering glance before resigning myself to sleeping off my exhaustion instead of pumping myself full of stimulants. Really, I'd been staying up on purpose. The only person I hadn't seen was the one I wanted to see most, Teddy. At my request, Essie was trying to keep his day as normal as possible, which meant that he was going by his normal schedule. Sure, I didn't want him to worry or spend all day in a hospital, but selfishly, I wanted to see him.

My life was turned upside down. I'd been reckless and thoughtless, and I needed proof that my baby boy was alright. Yes, people could tell me that he was alright, but it wasn't the same as having him in my arms and seeing it with my own eyes. Essie told me that she would bring him by before his scheduled playdate for a small visit so he wouldn't be too worried about me, and I missed him so much.

Nevertheless, Christian was right. I needed sleep, and staying up any longer was pointless. Sensing that I was growing tired, wonderful Christian closed the blinds for me and stroked my hair, an instant sleeping aid. I almost did drift off, but then I heard it.

"_Mommy_!" Teddy's voice permeated the dreary hospital floor, warming the room instantly. He ran so fast that I thought his tiny little legs would give way and send him rolling across the hospital floor, but he kept it together just enough to launch himself onto the hospital bed, much to the nurse's protests.

Landing near my feet, Teddy promptly started to climb up to reach me. Apprehension flashed in Christian's eyes, and before Teddy could even reach my bruised ribs, Christian scooped him up into his arms to distract Teddy. My disappointment seemed to darken the room once more, but I reminded myself that I was seriously injured. Still, it didn't make me feel much better…

"There's my Teddy Bear," I smiled softly, suppressing a wince as I sat up. This was further proof I didn't need to hug Teddy as tight as I wanted so, so I settled for sitting next to him. Teddy giggled, busying his hands by tugging on Christian's shirt. To make sure I stayed in bed, Christian sat down so that Teddy and I could be eye-to-eye while maintaining enough distance that Teddy wouldn't climb all over me.

The further I sat up, the more Christian offered a silent warning not to violate the orders and pick Teddy up. Instead, I traced a heart in Teddy's chubby cheek and told him, "I missed you, Teddy. You were a good boy for Essie weren't you?" I glanced up to Essie, who was waiting quietly in the doorway.

Teddy nodded, curls flying with excitement.

"That's my boy," I kissed his cheek, "What do you have planned today?" I wanted to hear everything, even if his sentences were adorably jumbled.

"We're going to the park with Wini!" Teddy announced proudly. None of us had broken it to him yet that his best friend, Wini Lewis, was moving to Seattle with Scarlet, so we'd scheduled plenty of playdates while we figured out how to tell them how far apart these two cities were. But now, we were all moving, and Teddy would have a built-in-friend on the west coast.

For a moment, I was awestruck with Teddy. My baby. My perfect, loving, kind baby. He was unscathed by my horrors, acting wonderfully vibrant and affectionate. Tears quickly accompanied my emotional reunion with Teddy, and I tried in vain to keep them to myself. Theodore's eyes filled with concern, just like his daddy's, and I leaned in to kiss Theodore's hair as I tried to reassure him.

"They're happy tears, Theodore. I love you so much," I could feel the emotion start to consume me, so I laughed and tried to look surprised as I said, "The park? With Wini? That'll be so much fun!"

Theodore beamed after I chained the subject, and I watched in jealousy as Christian rubbed soothing motions on Theodore's back and twisted his curls into tighter ringlets. I wanted to hold my baby, and nobody would let me.

I didn't have much time to stew on it though. Another knock came at the door, interrupting the one visitor I cared most about. Helpful as always, Essie opened the door before I could tell the visitor to come back in half an hour, and in walked in the visit I dreaded the most.

The police.

I hadn't spoken to them yet. They'd talked to everyone else last night and even attempted to answer all of Christian's pointed questions, but because I was in a coma, they'd decided to wait until this morning to try again. Now they were here, expecting me to relive the most terrifying day of my life, and again, I wished I could run to Seattle.

"Miss Steele?" the first police officer stepped towards me, nodding a polite smile to Christian and me.

"Yes?" I hesitantly nodded my head.

"I'm Detective Branson, and this is my partner, Detective Arnold," the man motioned towards the woman standing next to him, "We'd like to talk to you about last night. Is now a good time?"

_No_.

I turned to Teddy, knowing that he couldn't stay and listen to this, but I'd barely gotten to see him. I hadn't yet convinced Christian to break the rules and let me hold him. I hadn't even breathed in Teddy's warm, applesauce scent.

"I can take Teddy," Essie offered, stepping closer to Christian and offering her arms to take Theodore from his grasp. I wanted to protest, but instead, I planted a big kiss on Theodore's forehead and resigned myself to let him go without making a fuss.

Christian was just as hesitant to let Teddy go. He saw him briefly last night, but Teddy was practically asleep. This was the first-time Christian got to spend time with Teddy since leaving at the begging of the week. I knew Christian missed him as much as I did, but begrudgingly, we let Essie take him.

"Beautiful little boy," Detective Arnold said once Theodore was out of earshot, "Yours?"

"Yes, he's two," I felt uncomfortable with small talk. We all knew why we were here. Beating around the bush reminded me how terrible I'd been at deflecting Jen.

Noticing my uneasiness and Christian's irritation, Detective Branson cut to the chase. "I hope we haven't interrupted your day-"

"You have," Christian's voice was angry, and I understood why. This was a reminder for him, too.

"Well, I promise, the sooner this is over, the sooner we'll get out of your hair," Detective Branson took a seat near my bed but far enough from Christian. "There are a lot of holes we'd like to fill about yesterday. The crime scene told us a lot, so did witnesses. You were seen being abducted outside of your office by a woman who reportedly had been pretending to be an intern in Lewis Publishing, though she is not employed there. Had you met her before?"

"No," I was amazed by how quickly Branson went into it, "She, um, started talking to me in the elevator. She said she was from Seattle and was interviewing with LP."

I spent the next half-hour answering questions like this. Branson didn't hold back, asking me all the hard questions I wanted to avoid. Christian stood by me, holding my hand in reassurance and attempting to hide his fury and horror as I recounted my abduction. I lived through it again as I walked them through my afternoon, and I didn't leave out a detail.

At parts, Christian looked like he could kill someone, and others, I thought he would cry. Branson and Arnold kept notes as I spoke. In exchange, they told me more about the case. The whole exercise was necessary but still hurt like hell. I didn't like being in that state of mind again, but I wanted those women to pay for what they did. If talking about it meant that they'd be locked up and as far away from me as possible, I didn't mind talking.

In the end, I didn't learn as much as I wanted to. Branson told me what I knew with bits and pieces of new information.

Jen was a lunatic and had never worked for LP. However, she got into the building, and while pretending to work there, she befriended several interns, including Chase on my floor. Chase was completely uninvolved and had been the one to call the police when Jen shoved me in the car. Elizabeth Morgan was still in a coma, which had to be somewhere in this fucking hospital, and that set me on edge. Her injuries were much more severe than mine, which made me feel slightly better. Both survived the crash, but I did break Jen's nose when I kicked her. Both would also be taken into police custody as soon as possible without bail. The investigation would continue, obviously, but I could go home to Seattle as long as I was willing to return to New York if needed. They expected the two women to take a plea, so I would be free from enduring a messy trial.

When the two detectives left, the pull to New York left with them. This didn't feel like home anymore, and with the detectives clearing me to leave the state, all obligations to the city disappeared. I didn't have any intention of returning to LP (or rather, Grey Publishing's New York Office). My apartment in the city was sold, and Christian's apartment had been empty before. For the first time, I wanted to run away _with_ Christian, not away from him.

"Knock, knock," a friendly voice came from the other side of the hospital door, interrupting the two minutes of peace Christian and I had after the detectives left. It was yet another visitor. _Great_.

"Come in," I attempted to disguise my irritation, but I didn't succeed.

My eyes widened when I realized it was Dr. Patel, the lovely woman that had taken over my care this morning. She'd braved all our bullshit with an unwavering smile. She answered all of Christian's questions, and she didn't seem the least bit offended when I became angry at my new limitations she'd ordered. Without a doubt, I was a terrible patient, but being a good doctor, she took it in stride.

"I was making my rounds before heading out for the day and wanted to stop by," Patel came in, still sliding her white coat over her scrubs, "Good news, your chart shows that you're healing very well. I know your husband said you'd like to go home as soon as possible. Is that right?"

My eyes darted to Christian at the word, _husband_, but I vaguely remembered that he'd warned me that the only way to see my chart when I was in a coma was to insist we were married but had kept our original names.

"Um, yes," I nodded, "I'd like to get back to Seattle."

"Well," Patel referenced the chart at the end of my bed, "At the rate you're going, I'd say you could leave by tomorrow morning. We'll schedule you for a discharge tomorrow, but you must remember that, even though you're at home, you are still injured. No heavy lifting or overexertion for the next few weeks. There are some instructions for the medications you'll be taking outside of the hospital, but the nurses will brief you on that tomorrow morning. I do want your condition to be monitored, so I will make a referral for a doctor in Seattle if that's where you're going. I'll check in tomorrow to make sure you're still doing good, but you should be out very quickly, Anastasia."

"Really?" an embarrassingly wide smile spread across my face.

"Really," Dr. Patel gave me a reassuring smile, "You'll be home before you know it."

* * *

**Sorry this chapter is a day late! I originally wrote the beginning from Ana's point of view but thought it would be better from Christian's, so that caused a delay. Looking at my calendar, the next chapter will probably be late, too, but I will get to work on it as soon as I can.**

**So what did you think of this chapter? I read through FSF and wanted to incorporate a lot of her hospital visit from the original with a twist, and I kinda wonder if I put too much in there. I wrote the majority of this chapter at two in the morning, so I spent some time trying to weed through the sleep-deprived mess, but I think it came out okay.**

**As always, follow, favorite, and review! **


	32. Fifty Shades of Notice

**Fifty Shades of Secrets**

_**Chapter 32: Fifty Shades of Notice**_

* * *

_**Anastasia Steele**,_

In retrospect, deciding to move within forty-eight hours was not the most responsible move for a woman fresh out of the hospital, but I didn't back down from my decision and braved the ensuing panic.

Lewis Publishing- well, Grey Publishing now- was understanding and put sick leave towards my notice. With no landlord to alert or real estate agent to hire, leaving the New York apartment seemed easy. From the confines of a hospital bed, my moving daydreams seemed so simple. Christian wasn't getting rid of the apartment, so furniture would stay. Personal objects would be put in a suitcase to fly with us, or they'd be safely tucked in boxes that would be shipped to Seattle. And that was it. I thought it'd be a leisurely move.

Once I was thrown into the fire, I realized a cross-country move could never be _easy._

Freshly released from the hospital, my point of view was sunny, but the false sense of calm quickly faded. Curtis organized most of the move from his smartphone, but his place at my side was quickly called into question. He was not my employee. He worked for Grey Publishing's New York office. What would happen to him once I was gone? Would he leave his life in New York (not that he had much of one with his work hours), and could I even ask him to do that?

Naturally, Teddy had questions, too. Where were his toys going? Why couldn't Mommy pick him up? What was going on? I approached the questions one at a time, and while it was easy to explain his missing toys, explaining why I couldn't pick him up proved difficult. Avoiding unnecessary concern but assuring he understood the repercussions of my injury was impossible. Christian and I took turns explaining it, but every time, our answer just confused him further.

I was relieved for Essie but began to begrudge her constant presence as a personal minder. Everyone feared that I would pick Teddy up, and while it was a legitimate concern, it pissed me off. I hated hearing Teddy cry for Mommy, and I hated it even more when everyone tried to explain why his mommy couldn't comfort him. Practically forcing Teddy's care to his nanny, I felt like one of the dismissive moms I hated.

On the bright side, Christian slowly grew to like Essie. Being Christian Grey, he maintained his doubts but was thankful for her help. And it was nice having her on the flight. Christian was determined to prevent any possible complication and practically tied me into my seat, pretending that an iPad full of audiobooks was enough to make me forget about my restrictions. Under his watchful eye, I couldn't bend the rules, so I was comforted knowing that Essie was attentive and willing to chase Teddy's toy train down the plane aisle him.

However, there was an unexpected lesson I received while flying back to Seattle. _Don't schedule morning flights with a child in the middle of his terrible twos._

But being in Seattle was worth it. Compared to New York, it was a dream. The air was cleaner. The traffic was simpler. The safety was exceptionally better, and with Taylor driving, the transportation was easier than sprinting down Manhattan sidewalks in heels. Teddy's new proximity to grandparents excited him, and I couldn't wait to take him to the new house for him to see the yard he'd enjoy after the renovations.

Seattle felt like home.

I was walking on a cloud. Though to be fair, I was still on painkillers.

Nevertheless, I still felt aggravated by Christian's protective measures and felt the need to get out of bed when Christian disappeared to tuck Teddy in. Even in my defiance, I was in enough pain to prevent me from venturing far and settled on knocking on Essie's door.

Out of everyone, Essie took the brunt of the inconvenience. Knowing that both of her employers were moving to Seattle was one thing. It was another to be given forty-eight hours to get out of a lease, pack, and prepare to move across the country. Expecting her to make such a drastic life change in a short amount of time was selfish and inconsiderate, so I added it to my growing list of things I hadn't considered before deciding to move so quickly. But ever the trooper, Essie hadn't voiced irritation at adding new responsibilities and drastic changes to her job.

Still, I needed to talk to her. She deserved to voice frustrations, and honestly, the scope of her position would need to be reconsidered. Because I made her move, I felt obliged to provide housing, but with my limitations, I suspected that she would need to live with us temporarily. Surely, a raise was worth consideration with everything I'd thrown at her, too. Even beyond that, she was my friend. One of the only friends I'd had in New York, and I hadn't really been treating her like it.

Essie opened the door after the first knock, already changed into unicorn pajamas and holding a smartphone covered in stickers. She was surprised to see me but offered me in anyways, "Hey, Ana. I thought you'd be in bed."

"Going to bed later. With everything that's going on, I wanted to check in," I was surprised at how surprised Essie was. Neither of us had experience in nannies. I was her first client, and she was my first nanny. But I assumed that, when you moved, you talked about it with your nanny, right?

"Oh, okay," Essie sat on the edge of her bed, moving her tiny duffle to the floor, and I was startled by how small her bag was. It was hardly big enough to be an overnight bag, but there didn't seem to be any further luggage harboring the rest of her belongings. With her extensive, colorful closet, a bag that size couldn't even fit all of her shoes.

"Listen, I know this was a big imposition," I stumbled on how to explain everything to Essie. She deserved an explanation, but how was I supposed to tell her that I forced her to pick up her life and move it across the country because I was in love with some guy I had only been with for a few months? That was like telling someone you pulled the rug out from under someone because you thought the rug would look nicer in your boyfriend's house, "As you know, a lot has happened, and while I was on leave, I wanted to get out of New York and get a head start on a life here. Moving in forty-eight hours was not fair though, and I'm sure you have a lot of unanswered questions. Logistically, we left a lot unresolved, and I am obviously willing to help you out with your lease and expenses that arise due to this nuisance."

"That's so nice," Essie was uncharacteristically nervous. In the time she'd been working with me, we'd only discussed logistics a handful of times, but that wouldn't make her this nervous. She trusted me and the security behind Christian's bank account to make sure she'd be paid during my unforeseen unemployment. So what was wrong? Before I could ask her directly, Essie let out a weak, "We should definitely talk about that."

Still convinced she was acting strangely, I agreed and took a seat on a nearby chair, and I patiently waited for her to begin.

"Well, um," Essie stood, fiddling with her thumbs, "I… won't be…" Essie's words were slow as if she was still trying to plan this conversation in her head, "doing _that_."

"Doing what?" I asked, genuinely confused. Did she mean that she wanted to live in Escala and not an apartment here? Was she too proud to let me help with her lease? Or was she unwilling to take on the new hours due to my injury?

"_Living in Seattle_," Essie confirmed my worst nightmare, and I stared at her in horror.

The more I thought about it, I appreciated that it was natural for Essie to want to stay in New York. After all, she was still barely in her twenties and fresh out of NYU. She stumbled into nannying, and I always knew that she would find other employment at some point. But I also thought she would do this at a more convenient time.

"Alright," I swallowed, still trying to process the implications of what she'd just said.

At least Christian didn't like Essie anyways, and I wouldn't be surprised to find a secret replacement nanny list lying around his office. Teddy was starting preschool soon, and it wasn't like Seattle was void of all childcare. Apart from being unable to chase him around the apartment, I was still able to take care of him, and given time, I would need minimal support. The situation was not impossible.

Still, I couldn't shake my disappointment. Essie felt like a family member, especially to Teddy, and it would be a hard separation. Theodore was faced with enough change, and losing Essie would only be the icing on the cake. Teddy was already tackling different time zones and drastically altered living situations, not to mention the increased presence of his father. Losing a caregiver was hard but would be even more devastating when she represented his last bit of stability.

"Well," I began, fumbling for the right words, "I suppose you can finish your notice here in Seattle, and when it is time, we will fly you back to New York. Obviously, I'll need more support now, but you'll receive overtime for the increased hours.

"About that," Essie laughed awkwardly, and before she even said it, my stomach dropped, "I am actually not giving notice."

What the fuck?

"You're _not_ giving notice?" anger prickled at my scalp, urging me to react, but I forced myself to be as calm as possible, "So what? You're just leaving, and I'm supposed to mail your check?"

"Yes, unfortunately. I mean, I might need a flight, too," Essie grimaced, "I know this is terrible, and I meant to give notice. But so many obstacles came up. That woman attacked you in your apartment, and I couldn't spring that on you then. Now, this has happened, and if I could, I would stay a few more weeks. But my new job starts on Monday. I am so, so sorry, Ana."

_Sorry_? She's sorry? Fuck that. If she wanted me to pity her, I didn't. I couldn't even carry Teddy, yet Essie was leaving without notice for another job! What the hell was I supposed to do? How could she be so unprofessional and inconsiderate?

"Esmerelda," I took a deep breath to keep my composure. It was the first time I'd called her that since I hired her, but calling her Essie felt wrong now. She'd given no warning, not even when she was packing her bag for the flight. After all of this time, how could she do this to me? How could she do this to _Teddy_? She'd played with him all afternoon and was going to disappear by Monday morning. He'd be devastated. It was cruel. It was irresponsible. It was infuriating. "This is honestly _not_ okay, and I am not going to pretend it is. You know I can't even _hold_ Teddy. Christian is going back to work. What am I supposed to do?"

"I don't know," Essie admitted, casting her eyes down.

"Do you at least have any other contacts that can help me until I find someone? Did you plan on really just leaving tonight?" hurt slipped into my voice. Our friendship was severed, and I'd valued it so much. She'd been one of my only friends, and now she was screwing me over.

"No… But aren't you moving close to family? Maybe your mom could come up," Essie suggested, and if I was not already mad, I sure as hell was now. My mom didn't come up when her daughter was in a coma. Unless she was already on the prowl for her next husband, she wasn't going to come up to babysit. Grace wasn't an option either. She worked full-time in a demanding position and was preparing for her eldest son's wedding. If I asked her, I knew she would do everything to help and would only overextend herself, and I couldn't do that in good conscious.

"What job are you taking?" I snapped.

"Social media position," Essie bit her lip.

She was screwing us to run some company's Facebook feed? Oh my God.

"How am I supposed to tell Teddy?" I pushed her.

"I don't know," Essie couldn't look at me now, "But I never meant to be a nanny forever. This is a dreadful thing to do to you, but in the end, I know everyone will be happy."

How the hell could she say that? This wasn't ripping off a Band-Aid. It was abandoning a family that needed her.

"I genuinely can't believe you," the venom in my voice left Essie silent, and I was relieved because I didn't want to hear any more of her bullshit. I didn't even want to look at her. When I left the room, my face flushed with shock, anger, and frustration, and my eyes even started to water. I still couldn't wrap my head around the fact she was really doing this.

I nearly fell onto Christian's bed when I got to the bedroom, gasping for air as I grappled with the news. I wrestled between emotions, longing to cry and shout and throw something all at the same time. Everything was fucked. From where I sat, there was no immediate solution. It wasn't like I could just check Craigslist and find a perfect, non-murdering nanny that could start in the next twenty minutes. I had a toddler. A toddler that wanted to play and run and still needed to be carried down the baby-proofed stairs. Curtis planned to call me on Monday, but he wasn't here for me to beg him to become an interim nanny. Christian had already neglected work to care for me, and though Ray was an excellent grandpa, I didn't trust him to be on full-time toddler-duty.

Desperately, I longed for my life only a few hours ago. Seattle brought me bliss. Christian and I were in a good place, and I was in love and happy. Moving was a bright new future. Now, it was complicated and messy.

"_Ana_?" Christian's concern was startling, and anxiety practically radiated off him as he ran to me as soon as he reached the bedroom door. I could only imagine how alarming it was to see a recently kidnapped, injured woman lying on a bed as she cried and grew increasingly panicked. "What's wrong?" he ran his fingers through my hair, and it was obvious that he was considering calling 911.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," I wiped at my face, wincing as I sat up to face him, "Just… Essie quit."

Christian didn't understand the significance of her resignation as he patiently rubbed comforting circles on my back, pulling me closer to him, "We can find another nanny. I know you and Teddy are close to her, but it will be okay. I promise."

"Christian, she quit _without notice_."

Suddenly, Christian's compassionate, reassuring expression was gone. If I thought I was mad, then Christian was so angry there wasn't a word for it.

"_What the fuck_?" Christian's face started to turn red, too, "After you were abducted and nearly killed, she has the audacity to leave without notice?! Where is your contract? Segal can ensure she is legally obliged to stay. This is fucking ridiculous." Christian was already fumbling for his smartphone, and I thought he might break the phone with how forcefully he approached it.

"No contract," I admitted, feeling even more like an idiot, "When she started out, it was only for the summer, and after a while, we forgot to draft one."

Honestly, I expected Christian to rake me over the coals for being so negligent and not having a contract, but instead, he grew silent and cupped his temples. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke, "I can't let you get hurt any further, Ana. I thought I was going to lose you this weekend, and you're in so much pain…"

I realized that Christian was talking more to himself than to me, and I melted into his grasp as he gently wrapped his arm around my waist. "I am so sorry," I whispered, realizing how much of this was my fault. I didn't protect myself from Jen. I didn't wait to move. I didn't even have a fucking contract with my nanny. I set myself up for failure.

"What?" Christian looked genuinely shocked, "How could you be sorry?"

"This is my fault," I admitted regretfully, "I got myself hurt, and I didn't have a contract. I was so trusting, and now we're fucked because of it." This wasn't how it was supposed to be when I got to Seattle. I hadn't even been here one day, and I'd already created a problem.

"Ana," Christian shook his head, tugging me even closer to him, and though I nearly groaned from the abrupt movement, I wouldn't have traded my place in his arms for anything in the world, "Don't you dare blame yourself. This is not your fault, and we will fix this. I'll ship in Mary Poppins herself if I have to."

"Getting a fictional nanny may be pretty hard, Christian," I found myself smiling into his chest.

"You and Teddy are worth it," Christian whispered, kissing the top of my head, and I was amazed at his reaction. He was mad at me or outraged in general. He was talking about how much he loved us. He really wasn't the same man who first brought me to Escala.

"I love you."

"I love you, too," Christian smiled down at me, his gray eyes glistening with affection.

"You know, we typically end fights with getting naked," I whispered, tracing the button of his shirt.

"This wasn't a fight," Christian reminded me.

"Just to be on the safe side," I suggested. It had been _so long_… Even when I couldn't imagine speaking to him, I could still think about being in his bed. And in every fantasy where I moved to Seattle, we spent the first week chained to his king size bed (and the shower and the piano and the kitchen counter…)

"Nice try, Miss Steele," Christian kissed the tip of my nose, giving me that sexy grin of victory as if it was some feat to not have sex with me.

"Technically, abstaining from sex was never specifically stated," I pouted, "And doctor's orders are not legally binding."

"Well, next time, I'll make sure you have to sign something," Christian smirked, and had I not loved seeing him so happy, my horny ass may have decked him in the nose.

* * *

_**Christian Grey**_,

I forgot what it was like to wake up to Anastasia and know that she wasn't preparing to leave me. Without a flight waiting to take her to JFK or a fight forcing her to run away from me forever, Anastasia was just _here_. She was in my bed, and even more than that, she was mine. She knew my demons, and I knew hers. We both had mistakes to bear but had forgiven them.

This experience was so confounding that I felt the need to make a name for it. Surely, in the depths of useless dictionary words, there was a term that expressed this moment. Never in my wildest dreams did I think that Anastasia and I could be in this position. We were always one battle away from self-implosion, and somehow, we pushed each other away when we wanted to come closer together.

But here I was. Beside Anastasia, who was hurt but still blissfully asleep in my bed. She didn't just tolerate me for gifts or kinky sex. She loved me, and she was the mother to the most perfect child in the world, _our _child.

I would have gladly spent the rest of my life stuck in this instant, but instead, I watched Ana slowly wake up and beam her perfect smile at me. And my perfect moment got that much better.

"I'm not used to seeing you in bed with clothes on." It wasn't what I expected her to say, which made her statement far funnier than it probably was.

"Same can be said for you."

Ana grinned, slowly turning on her side to face me, and I could see the pain she tried to hide. "If you're offering to get us both naked, who am I to stop you?"

Slowly, I shook my head, "While I never anticipated this, I can honestly say I am not trying to get you naked, Miss Steele."

Ana sighed, carefully stretching in bed, "You're looking at me like I'm a pitiful puppy."

"No, I'm looking at you like I need to keep it in my pants and take care of you," I gently played with her hair, tangling my fingers in the curls. It was the first time I'd really seen them. She always brushed them out into waves or straightened them before they formed. This felt like just another thing to add to my list of things I loved about Ana. And another reason I'd become a sappy son of a bitch. "I nearly lost you, and we're not taking any unnecessary risks."

"Sex is a stress reliever," Ana pouted, "I'd also argue that your cock is significantly better at reducing stress than most vibrators, so really, it's in the interest of my health."

Her argument was adorable and would have been convincing had I not been so dedicated to maintaining abstinence while she healed.

"You taking care of yourself is a stress reliever," I reminded her. Already, she was having trouble staying within the confines of doctor's orders. Under watchful eyes, she behaved, but I worried that, with Essie gone and me returning to work, she'd push herself too far and worsen her injuries. Just convincing her to take her pain meds proved a feat.

"Pitiful puppy again," Anastasia sat up, effectively ending pillow talk.

"You're not a puppy. You're a woman with a concussion and bruised ribs, and you and I both know you want to fix everything and could get hurt," I wrapped my arms around her, wary of irritating her injuries, and I pressed a kiss to her cheek, making a mental note that being this close was only making my resolution for chastity more difficult.

Anastasia's sigh was dramatic but authentic, and she begrudgingly nodded her head, "No overexertion - with the exception of finding a temporary nanny."

"_Including_ finding a temporary nanny," I corrected.

"_What_? I can't just let Teddy run around Escala," Anastasia turned to face me, bringing our faces merely inches from each other, and this further proved that I didn't need to get this close to her if I took chastity seriously.

"He won't. There are experts searching for a replacement as we speak, and for now, I can stay at home." I knew that this would be a hot topic for Anastasia.

From a professional standpoint, it was a terrible proposition. I'd missed a fair amount of work already. Surely, my absence had already set back several deals that would be otherwise closed, and my productivity would be dismal working from home while also being responsible for the care of a jet-lagged toddler. However, from a personal standpoint, it was ideal. I wanted to care for Anastasia and spent quality time with Theodore, and with an immediate lack of childcare, I was a viable option. Furthermore, my presence could significantly diminish the likelihood of Anastasia being reckless.

"Christian, you can't do that. You've missed weeks for me already, and you told me yourself that Ros wants to kill you for being gone so much," Anastasia was adamant, "You're going back to work, and as his mother, I would be a better judge for the person responsible for _my_ child."

Obviously, this was a conversation that would take much more time than I'd hoped, and before launching into the inventible negations, I would like to ensure she at least ate breakfast first. This is not what I'd wanted for our first few days in Seattle, and I hated Essie for creating this problem. Anastasia had been through enough, especially after recounting her horrors to policemen in New York. She was supposed to relax and heal, but now I had to make sure she ate before we fought.

"You look hungry," I got out of bed, holding out a hand to help her up.

Watching me through stony eyes, Anastasia took my hand out of necessity and pulled herself up with a pained whimper. She tugged her hair into a ponytail and huffed out of the room. I suppressed the urge to beg her to walk slower, and instead, I hovered behind her. Though I recognized how condescending and ridiculous my behavior was, my protective nature prevented me from stopping.

"_French toast!_" Theodore's voice traveled through the first floor of Escala like a national warning about a sugar-fueled two-year-old, and after rushing to the kitchen to find the source of my son's exclamation, I couldn't decide if Teddy being awake so early or Gail making French toast was more surprising.

Tucked safely in Gail's grasp, Teddy watched with awe as French toast sizzled on the skillet, and Anastasia's annoyance dissipated instantly. She walked closer and kissed his cheek, offering a thankful smile to Gail before tucking Teddy's curls behind his ear, "Say thank you to Mrs. Jones for making your favorite breakfast on a Saturday, Theodore."

"Thank you, Mrs. Jones," Teddy practically drooled over his breakfast.

"Thank you, too, Mrs. Jones," Anastasia thanked her, "You really didn't have to. It's your time off."

"After everything you've been through, it's the least I can do to welcome you home," Gail put Theodore down once he was satisfied with watching his food cook, and he returned to his cartoons. Maintaining a watchful eye on him, I attempted to stay involved in the conversation but failed to do little more than listening in.

"Esmerelda left this morning," Mrs. Jones offered a consoling smile, "She left a note on the counter."

Hearing her name made my blood boil. Leaving employment to pursue another career was hardly a crime, but deserting a family that needed her without notice should be one. Anastasia was distraught, and I was furious. She deserved to be run through the mud, and I was tempted to contact her new source of employment and give her hell for her recklessness. But Anastasia would have killed me, so I sated myself by not paying for her last minute flight to New York.

"This morning?" Anastasia was still devastated despite her insistence she wasn't. I recognized that they developed a friendship during her employment as Theodore's nanny, and it made the resignation that much harder for her to bear. But none of us faced the same rejection Theodore would feel.

Despite staying up half the night talking it over in bed (both unfortunately fully dressed), we were not any closer to developing a cure. The suddenness of her departure only made the delicate subject harder to approach. Keeping him distracted was an option, but we could only take him to so many parks and museums. Anastasia even suggested bringing Esmerelda to Seattle during free weekends to ease him off of her, but I wasn't convinced.

"I didn't realize she was leaving so quickly," Gail and Anastasia carried on a conversation while I supervised Theodore and his dance-along to an annoyingly catchy theme song.

"She quit without notice last night," Anastasia revealed, "I don't know what we'll do, to be honest. I can barely hold a suitcase, let alone Teddy. We're looking for a new nanny though."

"For the time being, I could care for him," Gail suggested, and my ears perked up. Gail could be the perfect answer. I was willing to pay her anything to give us peace of mind while searching for a real Marry Poppins.

"We couldn't ask you to do that. You work so hard as it is, and you deserve your weekends off," Anastasia shook her head.

"Ana, I love Theodore, and as you said, this is only temporary while you look for a replacement," Gail's offer was genuine, and it was a solid suggestion. I trusted Gail with everything, including the most precious thing in my life, Theodore.

"You really would?" Anastasia was on the verge of tears.

"Of course," Gail was nearly knocked down by Anastasia's hug, but she seemed happy. Because Anastasia's time with me was brief the first time around, they didn't know each other very well, and even though Gail did not work weekends, being in the same apartment allowed them to develop a relationship I was more grateful for than ever.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you. You have no idea what this means to me," Anastasia couldn't stop thanking Gail despite Gail's insistence that it was not an elaborate gesture.

But before I could join the celebration, Anastasia turned to me with the proudest smirk I'd ever seen and told me, "Well, I guess you're going back to work, Mr. Grey."

* * *

**Okay, so I finally got this out! **

**The journey to this chapter has been a long one. I took time off while on vacation and started to write this chapter one way, realized I didn't like it, and started over. This was something I'd planned on since Essie's introduction, but because the story has evolved (and her place in it has diminished over time), it took some time to work it out. **

**As for the timing, I recently had my first surgery (don't worry, nothing serious) and naively assumed that I could spend the whole recovery time writing, but it turns out that you have recovery time because you actually have to recover. Crazy, huh? While on pain pills, the stuff I wrote was not worth putting out, but now I can finally get back into it. My inspiration was all over the place, and I have chunks of the next chapter already written out. Also, I finished this pretty late and wanted to put it out there, so please let me know if there are any glaring issues I have missed.**

**But here it is. **

**As always, if you liked this, remember to follow, favorite, or review! **

**(BTW, for everyone who is asking, there are totally new chapters coming. I've just been super busy, but they're coming)**

**PS. I uploaded this last night, but it didn't go through. So here you go.**


	33. Fifty Shades of Kate's Rehearsal Dinner

_**Fifty Shades of Secrets**_

**Chapter 33: Fifty Shades of Kate's Rehearsal Dinner**

* * *

_**Anastasia Steele,**_

"We can leave anytime you want, Anastasia," Christian reminded me for the hundredth time since we left Escala to attend Kate's rehearsal dinner, and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

In college, Kate and I would dream about her wedding. After yet another asshole ditched her in the morning, we would crowd around our tiny kitchen table and discuss the man she'd marry. Jabbering like school girls, her husband felt more like a mythical creature than a real person. It was an easy daydream to slip into and then put away when presented with more interesting events. The fantasy lived in a land of "one day" that felt both imminent and distant. When I left Seattle, I recognized that I would never meet the mythical husband-to-be. I wouldn't get to grill him over their compatibility or assist him planning Kate's dream proposal, and I wouldn't endure the wedding preparations for the honor of standing by her side in the bridal party.

So, it was incredible just to _see_ her wedding, let alone play an active role in it. Watching Kate plan her wedding was an exciting- if not mildly terrifying- experience. With ease, she bustled between quests, last minute decisions, and tweaks to rehearsal dinner décor. Every detail was scheduled and designed to perfection, undoubtedly making this Seattle's best wedding of the year but also leading her to wedding-induced madness. She juggled responsibilities like a pro, offering a perfect smile for the wedding scrapbook, but when a florist dared to deliver the wrong flowers, she was also a ticking time bomb. And I was there for it all and making up for lost time.

Mia understood my need to be here, and though Kate was distracted with wedding details, she understood, too. But Christian didn't.

"You've been saying that since we left home," I leaned into Christian, trying to hide my exhaustion. The rehearsal was my first major outing after the attack and was a trial run for the actual wedding. I'd promised Christian that I would bow out if the event was too straining, but I never had any intention of missing this. Insisting I was fine, I cited my success on previous, shorter bridesmaid excursions over the week, but I quietly recognized that I was taking too much on after a traumatic event. This morning, I pushed reason to the side and accompanied Mia on extensive errands just to prove that I could. However, it backfired when I was already exhausted before we even stepped into the Artic Club Hotel for the actual rehearsal. Still, I bore a brave face so that Christian couldn't tell me 'I told you so.'

It would have been easier had the wedding preparations been less intricate. Kate had always dreamed of a lavish wedding, and for extra encouragement, a journalist from a major bridal magazine chronicled the event. Nothing could be mediocre, not even her manicure. With such high expectations, the rehearsal dinner had to be impeccable, and unfortunately, it was more complicated than just making toasts and going home.

After the rehearsal, we were given time to prepare for dinner, and though I'd planned to rest once home, I didn't get a chance. Christian and I took Teddy home after his adorable rehearsal as the ring bearer, and to give Gail a well-deserved break, Christian and I welcomed a new babysitter into our exclusive list of caregivers. Despite immaculate references and credentials, we didn't automatically trust the poor girl and spent an hour interrogating her. By the time we trusted her with Theodore's care, we were running late, and I hardly had time to change and conceal my dark circles before going to the venue.

Other guests marveled at the fabulous theme and décor, but I was too distracted with my heels to truly enjoy it. At Kate's insistence, all of the bridesmaids remained in heels to prepare our innocent feet for tomorrow's cruel high heels. Ignoring Christian's protest, I complied and wore my unstable stilettos while silently cursing my lackluster height. It was not a perfect experience, but I wanted to be a good friend. Christian, however, was far less accommodating to Kate's wishes than I was.

"You should have stayed home," Christian look frustrated, casually glancing at my feet because I noticeably hadn't taken a step in fifteen minutes.

"I'm not missing this. My college best friend only gets married once," I reminded Christian, fiercely standing my ground for a woman still fresh from the hospital.

"It's Katherine. I wouldn't be so sure about that," Christian muttered.

I shot him a dirty look in response. It was one thing to complain about her at home but giving an expiration date to her marriage while standing at her rehearsal dinner was too far.

Christian had never liked Kate. He didn't like her when I lived in Seattle, and he didn't like her when I was gone. However, their mutual dislike escalated, and his hatred was cemented due to her behavior after my attack. When she was told about my kidnapping, she was so preoccupied with a wedding disaster that she was more worried about my status as a bridesmaid than my wellbeing, and it crossed a line for Christian. I certainly wasn't happy with her, but I recognized that she was under a lot of stress and deserved a second chance. After the wedding, I could work things out with her, but when I suggested this, he fervently disagreed.

"And to think," Christian continued, "We wouldn't be standing here if you hadn't drunk dialed me that night. Truly, we have you to blame," Christian's smile turned affectionate, and my cheeks flushed with the reminder of my unfortunate habit of drunk dialing him. The first time, he'd rescued me from unwanted advances and been rewarded with me puking on him. The second time, he'd been interrupted on a family vacation and endured many setbacks until we finally found ourselves here. It felt like a million years ago that I'd been the timid girl giving the worst interview of all time, and now, his apartment was _home_. Christian Grey was actually mine, and it still boggled me.

"You brought Elliott to town, Mr. Grey," I smiled in return, eager to hide my red cheeks by reaching for a passing glass of Champagne, but before I could conceal my flush with a bubbling flute of Champagne, Christian took the glass.

"Alcohol cannot be mixed with your medications, Anastasia," Christian brought the glass to his smirking lips.

"I thought we agreed we wouldn't have rules," I murmured.

"_We_ do not have rules. _Your doctor_ has rules," Christian corrected me.

"Lots of rules." There was a particular rule that earned my scorn.

While single, three years of abstinence wasn't a sacrifice. It was a convenience that allowed me to thrive in my career and parenthood. As a single mother trying to pay rent in Manhattan, dedicating time to dating took time away from more important tasks. Without focusing on sex or relationships, I was perfectly satisfied, too. In the occasional moment of weakness, I remedied myself with casual flirting during happy hour, and a night with my vibrator was more than adequate. Sex wasn't part of the equation. But those rules were established when Christian and I were estranged and living thousands of miles apart.

Now, maintaining abstinence _was_ a sacrifice. Sharing a bed with Christian was temptation enough, and sharing a shower with him was absolutely cruel. Christian, who I never expected to turn down getting between my thighs, would not surrender to my deliberate temptation. Not even provocative lingerie and persistence could crack him. And while I loved how much he cared about my health, I was also frustrated as hell.

"This is impermanent, Anastasia," Christian's voiced boarded on humor, further exasperating me.

"It's been _weeks_," I whined.

"Patience is a virtue, Anastasia," Christian's voice was equally irritated. I knew that he was just as sexually pent up as me, but he had the benefit of knowing he was doing the moral thing. And surely, watching a girl wince when she sat up in bed was enough to squash any sexual appetite. Saying no to the pitiful injured girl wasn't comparable to being the rejected girl

"The doctor did not give definitive guidelines," I thought about calling my doctor up right now to get an answer, but the risk was too high that she might side with Christian or give me a longer sex-free sentence.

"You have a concussion and bruised ribs," Christian stared at me incredulously.

"It isn't like my _mouth's_ broken, Christian," I huffed, and his eyes briefly glossed over with want before returning to annoyance. His jaw tightened, and his nose flared, an obvious sign that his annoyance was growing into anger.

"My experience is admittingly limited, but as far as I am aware, you don't discuss sex at a rehearsal dinner," Christian whispered.

"As if we haven't fucked at a family event," I crossed my arms, and Christian's eyes widened in shock at my words. And though he'd never admit it, he was nearly laughing.

"Ana," Christian whispered, silently urging me to lower my voice, "What is going on?"

Sexual frustration made me irritable enough, but when combined with exhaustion and painfully high heels, I couldn't hold it back. But that didn't make my complaints any less legitimate.

"We've only been together a few weeks, and right now, I feel more like your responsibility than your girlfriend. I'm just…" I bit my lower lip, something I knew he hated, "I don't want to just be the girl who got hurt. We're so focused on following doctor's orders."

Silence engulfed our little corner of the rehearsal dinner. Engaged in an obstinate stare-down, weeks' worth of sexual frustrations turned to quiet and annoyed expressions. In spite of the mounting tension, not even the culmination was a relief. Secretly, I'd hoped that our abstinence would finally end, and in a coat closet or a backseat or some other unconventional spot, I would know that I had my Christian back, kinks and all.

"I love you, Anastasia," Christian broke the silence, "I could not stop them from hurting you, but I can take care of you. I couldn't live with myself if I furthered your injuries in pursuit of an orgasm."

"Christian, you wouldn't hurt me. I'm not glass. Obviously, we'd start off with vanilla, which could hardly hurt me right now. It's almost like you don't _want_ to. You don't want to see me battered, which I understand, but I'm _still_ battered. You can't just avoid me to avoid seeing the bruises. Right now, I'm the pitiful puppy you're nursing back to health, not the girlfriend who just moved thousands of miles to share your bed," my voice was lower now, more conscious of the surrounding party, "I know this has been hard on you, but I'm the one being rejected."

"Don't want to?" Christian repeated incredulously, "Even if I didn't always want you, your constant lingerie has certainly contributed."

I smiled to myself, relieved that all of the black lace had gone to good use.

"I am not rejecting you. I am _protecting_ you, which I would do regardless of the accident. You have not stopped being attractive because someone hurt you. I'm more cognizant of what could happen," Christian explained.

I teetered in my high heels, caught between avoiding eye contact and melting into his gray gaze, "As a couple, we cope and communicate through sex. For all I know, orgasms could be the glue binding us together," I was mortified that I was unburdening my secret fears in the corner of his brother's rehearsal dinner, but Christian hardly minded the locale now.

"If we were simply bound by sex, Ana, we wouldn't have come this far. You are the mother of my child, a child that I love dearly. I love _you_ dearly," Christian's comforting voice put me at ease, but my throat caught when he pointed out, "But it's more than that, isn't it?" he watched me as if daring me to lie.

Hesitantly, I nodded my head in agreement, "I'm sensitive about sex. I've only had it with you, which leaves my skillset severely lacking comparatively. And if you don't want me now, how are you going to feel years down the road? I'm not the submissive you're used to, and eventually, you may become angry for having to give up what you enjoy because of my hard limits. I want to go back into the red room, but I'm never going to be that girl who's capable of everything you've had in the past."

"Ana…" Christian was hurt, "I don't want to be that girl. I want you to be you, and I am more than sufficiently attracted to you. Our abstinence is not really about sex. It is about your health and my feeble attempt to correct the fact I wasn't there to protect you. I nearly didn't take that call from Curtis. I was so angry that I nearly missed the call telling me about your attack, and I shouldn't have been on the other side of the country when your safety was already questionable. And though the investigator hasn't officially said, there's no way one of my employees targeted you without it being my fault."

"It was _not_ your fault, Christian," I instinctively stepped closer, resting my hand within the safe zone on his arm, "_I_ was careless, but it isn't my fault just as it isn't yours. Those women are responsible, not you."

Christian gently pulled me closer, whispering in my ear, "I love you, Ana."

"I love you, too,' I beamed with a blissful smile plastered on my lips. Even with unveiling our relationship doubts at an inopportune moment, I felt so happy. My fears dissipated as I watched the party from the comfort of Christian's arms. My problems could rear their ugly heads tomorrow, but for tonight, I let them go.

Instead of worrying about the inspector's calls or the investigation, I was free to think about how lucky I was that this all came together. I shouldn't have met Christian Grey, nor should Kate have met Elliott. Under normal circumstances, Christian would have allowed me to enter his life, and I shouldn't have vacationed in the exact resort as Christian and his family. I shouldn't have called him, and I shouldn't have let him in. But despite its unlikelihood, it all happened. _We_ happened. Teddy happened.

"We should really go home, Ana. You're fighting fatigue and should not be subjected to uncomfortable conversations with my distant family members," Christian made a valid point, and in the spirit of compromise, I agreed.

Thus far, two of his cousins had asked us directly why Christian had a secret son in New York, and one had even brought a prospective date for Christian. Though our situation required explanation, it was a conversation I was too tired to stomach. Tomorrow, fueled by contraband coffee and Kate's marching orders, I could face it. For tonight though, going back to bed with Christian sounded perfect (even if we did keep our clothes on).

"Alright," I agreed, and his victorious smile warmed my heart.

This agreement was timely, too. Long after my word had been given, Kate appeared out of the corner of my eye, clearly on the warpath. She walked with such force and momentum that her spotless white pumps hardly withstood the pressure. A fake smile rested perfectly on her red-stained lips, simultaneously calming her guests and alerting them to her distress. With a fresh manicure clutching her iPhone, Kate weaved through pockets of lingering guests.

Christian obviously wanted to bolt before Katherine could reach us, but he misjudged her speed in high heels. She was there before Christian could convince me to leave, and she waved her phone in my face, giving me only a moment to comprehend her predicament. And when I recognized the contact name, my stomach sank.

"Can you fucking believe this? It's the night before my wedding, and she pulls this bullshit," Kate cupped her forehead, allowing her phone to drop into my hand, and reluctantly, I read the incoming text in its entirety. Christian read over my shoulder and tensed.

"It's not a big deal, Kate," I tried, secretly relieved.

"Elena is my fucking hairstylist, and she has the '_flu'_ the night before my wedding. I didn't even want to hire her, but it was your fucking godmother," Kate directed her anger at Mia, who glared in response.

"It isn't my fault you drunk hired Elena at your bridal shower, okay?" Mia mumbled, "This is hardly apocalyptic, Kate."

"She insisted on doing my hair for the wedding, and now she's backed out? I don't care if she had to wear a surgical mask to get through it, she shouldn't have just bailed. She didn't even offer a replacement. It's the night before my wedding, and I'm searching for a substitute. This is bullshit," Kate reached for her phone, and I happily returned it, eager to get _Mrs. Robinson's_ words as far away as possible.

I was still shaken by how close she'd gotten to the Grey family. It was disgusting to watch them talk about her like some friendly, childless neighbor that had adopted the Grey children as her only family. What she did to Christian was appalling, and if it were up to me, she'd be rotting behind bars instead of bailing from weddings. I was sure that this lame excuse had nothing to with illness and everything to do with Christian and I. Fatherhood allowed Christian to fully appreciate her despicable actions, and I wanted to wring her neck.

Listening to Kate and Mia, part of me wanted to scream the truth. How could they be close to such a monster? How could she do what she did and still waltz in their lives like she belonged there? But it wasn't my story to tell. It was Christian's, and for the sake of his mother, he urged me to remain silent on the nauseating Mrs. Robinson.

"Maybe Alessandro still has an availability. I may have to trade this favor for bangs, but fuck it," Kate scoured her contact list for an alternative, and with a mumbled goodbye, she walked off to the next dark corner where she could covertly steam about Elena's wrongdoings.

Mia looked over at us with a shrug and a "what-can-you-do?" expression, and Christian squeezed my hand, pulling me closer to kiss the side of my head before he whispered, "I'm going to say goodbye to Mom. Then we'll leave." His assurance was appreciated but not convincing enough. Hearing her name made me sick, but seeing her as a cherished family member made me violently ill.

I nodded my head in approval, and he reluctantly left me in Mia's care. The two of us stood in comfortable silence, both tired and contemplating the next day. Or at least I thought that was what we were doing until Mia spoke.

"There's something there, isn't there?" Mia whispered, leaving me momentarily speechless. She said it with a casual tip of her champagne glass, her volume so low that her words were nearly lost to the crowd. It was arguably an innocuous question, but Mia's expression made it clear.

She _knew._

"What are you talking about?" I feigned innocence. Christian made his position on exposing Elena very clear, and I begrudgingly accepted that this news would crush his mother. She'd rescued Christian. Learning that she'd introduced him to someone as foul as Elena would destroy her. And as a daughter, I understood that there were things you did for the sake of your parent. Just as we never spoke of my mother's third marriage, we never spoke of Christian's past with Elena.

"What am I talking about?" Mia almost laughed, "You pale when we say Elena's name, and she pales when we say yours. I saw it the day you met. You hate each other. There's a reason," Mia didn't give me room to deny anything, presenting the evidence as fact.

"We have conflicting personalities," I didn't want to lie to Mia but owed it to Christian to conceal the truth. And it was true that Elena and I were different. I prided myself on it.

"You hated her when you stepped through that door before you knew her _conflicting personality_," Mia quickly called me on my bullshit, "You're not refuting anything, you know."

I took a deep breath, offering a nonchalant shrug, "You're right. I don't like Elena, and I'm sure she doesn't' like me. Beyond that, I'm not sure what you're getting at." I recognized that it was time to throw out every bullshit excuse I could come up with, but I didn't. I didn't evade her questioning because I honestly wanted to answer Mia's questions, and I doubted she'd give me the choice.

"I don't need you to tell me," Mia maintained eye contact, and I feared what she would say next. "When Christian went to Harvard, Elena suddenly purchased a vacation home in Cambridge, Massachusetts. For a woman who hates the cold and has no interest in Boston, it's an odd choice. Naturally, suburban gossip concluded that she was having an affair with a Harvard student and wanted something more discreet than hotels. And I agree."

This was inescapable. I was trapped in an impossible situation. Even if I remained silent, my silence was a confirmation of what she already knew, and lying to her was futile. If I left abruptly, I would be spared, but she'd surely confront Christian. So, unable to do anything to stop it, I simply waited for the ball to drop.

"She gave him money to start his business. She protected him when he announced he'd dropped out of school, and he invested in her company. He keeps her husband's business afloat," Mia continued to mount evidence though she didn't need to, "And she _hates_ you. That was his best friend, and when you came back into our lives, he cut her out entirely. I ran into one of her boy toys in town last month. He's young and… he even looks like Christian. I'm his younger sister, not his _dumber _sister," Mia's voice wavered, her gaze dropping as she finally asked, "Did my godmother have an affair with my brother?"

The question hit deeper than I ever expected it would. The betrayal and suspicion in her voice were heart-wrenching. I found it disgusting that Elena could have a place in their family, but this was Mia's godmother. She was the woman who gave her the confidence to pursue bangs and the knowledge to purchase flattering bras, but she was also a monster. It was easy for me to only see the _Mrs. Robinson_ in Elena, but Mia had the unfortunate duty of seeing both.

For a while, I searched for the right words, but the endeavor was fruitless. There were no _right words_.

"She's still in love with him," I admitted, feeling a weight lift off my chest, "She swears she isn't, and Christian doesn't think so. But she is, or she's as in love with him as she's capable of being. Until me, she'd maintained a sense of control in his life, and naturally, we hate each other. She wants to get rid of me, and I want to get rid of her."

Mia was nearly trembling with the shocking confirmation, but she attempted to process it.

"She tried to get rid of you?" Mia swallowed.

"She knew I was pregnant and told Christian not to look for me," I averted my eyes in shame, "It doesn't render me faultless, but she's innocent either."

Mia nodded her head slowly, taking deep breaths, and her eyes threatened to spill the mounting tears. I placed a reassuring hand on her arm and questioned my actions. Maybe I was supposed to lie to her even if she wouldn't believe it. Though she already knew, she wasn't ready to hear it.

"I just… Why hasn't Christian told us? _Told me_. Why didn't you tell me?" Mia finished off her glass of Champagne and scanned the room for her next refill.

"It isn't my place to tell. I feel guilty as hell for this," I confessed, "Christian doesn't want your mom to know. He thinks it will crush her, and it will. I only told you because I didn't want you to ask someone else."

"_Ask someone else what?"_

It was the last voice I wanted to hear but the one I knew I would. There was no way getting around what I'd just done. I'd confirmed a secret he'd guarded from his family for over a decade, and now I had to pay for it. I just hoped I'd have more time to calm Mia…

Christian heard us.

"Why didn't you tell me about Elena?" Mia didn't waste time in confronting her brother, and Christian's shock left him speechless. When he turned to me, eyes full of betrayal, my heart stopped in pain. I hurt him. Remorse turned my limbs to lead, but I couldn't get the apology out of my mouth before Mia interjected, "It's not what you think, Christian. I confronted her, and she just verified what I already knew. You could have talked to me. You didn't need to keep it a secret."

"You won't tell Mom," Christian said it in a way that made it unclear if it was an order or a question.

"Of course not," Mia shook her head, "But _I'm_ not Mom. I would have been there for you. I've been treating her like a fucking aunt all of this time, and you didn't even tell me. And I saw you two together. You can't pretend it was short-lived or even legal."

"Mia," Christian began but trailed off. This seemed to be one of the few situations Christian was unprepared for, and we were all floundering in the wake of Mia's spontaneous interrogation.

"We love you, Christian. You didn't need to bear this alone," Mia wiped at her eyes, trying to save her mascara before it stained her cheeks, and she squeezed his hand, supporting him without violating his safe-zone. I was suddenly reminded that Mia was still Christian's baby sister, and her presence had been so good for his recovery from his childhood trauma. As the one who helped cure him the first time, she was devastated to not be given a chance again.

"I love you, too, Mia," Christian's lips perked into a smile despite his remaining discomfort with Mia's revelations.

She smiled and kissed his cheek, wiping away the remains of pink lipstick as she tried to pull herself together. Wiping at her tears one last time and straightening her trendy haircut, she pulled on a smile and tried to resume the real world. We'd been in our own little world in the corner of the rehearsal dinner, but now, we had to move on with what happened.

"I probably need to help Kate find a new hairdresser," Mia laughed at herself, offering her brother another reassuring hand squeeze, "Promise me that we'll talk about this after all of the wedding bullshit is over?"

Christian nodded, and then, she wormed her way back into the party as if nothing had happened.

I stayed back, feeling the guilt weigh me down even further. At the time, it was so freeing to speak freely, but now I felt awful. I'd betrayed his confidence. I'd betrayed _him_. And my only excuse was that she seemed to know already. It wasn't a defense. It was a half-assed excuse.

"I am so sorry, Christian," my voice was sort as I was unsure where he stood, "She already knew… And I didn't know how to deny it."

"Ana," Christian interrupted me, "Let's go home."

"But we need to talk about this," I tried.

"Ana-"

"I'm not going home until I know if we're alright. We're supposed to communicate, and I've hurt you. I just want us to be happy, but I messed up. Earlier, I started a fight about sex, and now, I've inadvertently told your sister about that bitch." Fear held me captive, urging me to settle this before it escalated and I lost him again.

"Anastasia," Christian's hands held mine, "I may not be happy, but that does not mean I am unhappy with you or us. You voiced frustrations that I share, and we disagree on how to handle them. And while I wish it was avoidable, I have the target of Mia's questioning when she knows the answer. But am I really so bad you fear losing me after this?"

I was taken aback by his question, "Of course not. You're not _bad_, Christian. I love you, and I don't want to lose you, that's all."

"Then please, let's go to bed. I still love you, and you still love me. As far as I'm concerned, the rest can wait. Right now, your health is a priority, and you've had a long day."

"You're pulling the _sick-girl_ card again," I was amazed by his behavior. He was obviously upset and much angrier with me than he would ever show. But he was acting so calm that I wondered if he was on sedatives.

"Only because it works," Christian countered, offering a hand.

* * *

**I'm back! The last few months have been crazy. I finished up exams and took time off from everything to celebrate my birthday, and I'd planned on uploading this sooner. But was acting up, so I took time for rewrites and ended up creating a much bigger gap between chapters than I anticipated.**

**But who cares about excuses! So much happened in this chapter, and I struggled with writing Christian's response. I'm a worried it's a bit too out of character, but I wanted to show him in this caregiver role. **

**Ps. I think my proofreading was lackluster this time around, so please alert me to any glaring issues if you notice them. **


	34. Fifty Shades of Impulse

_**Fifty Shades of Secrets**_

**Chapter 34: Fifty Shades of Impulse**

* * *

_**Anastasia Steele,**_

Even shrouded in darkness and enveloped in stillness, Escala welcomed and calmed me as I entered the door. Everyone else had settled in for the night, leaving the space vacant as Christian and I walked from the elevator landing through the apartment. Only occasionally did we turn on a light, otherwise muddling through the dark space by familiarity. Escala, once domineering, was home now.

"So, what time do you have to be up?" I was the first one to speak. After leaving the rehearsal dinner, Christian and I remained quiet. For the first fifteen minutes, it seemed normal, but for the last thirty, it was uncomfortable. It was unclear if the silence was intentional, but it was well deserved. I thought I wanted Christian to hold back his anger, but now, I realized that only complicated things. At least when he snapped at me, I knew he was angry, but as he insisted that he was fine, I didn't know how to fix the problem because he wouldn't admit there was a problem.

I fucked up.

So badly.

Yet Christian seemingly forgave me. He had every right to show his anger at the rehearsal dinner, but he didn't. He still loved me, and obviously, I still loved him. Everything should have been fine, and I should have peacefully gone to bed. However, I couldn't take the pardon at face value. Something in me wanted to keep pushing because I didn't believe that he wasn't angry. He had to be.

"About eight," Christian's answer was lackluster. He tugged his tie off his neck, gradually losing layers as we approached the bedroom, and just the slightest movement made me want him even more. Sexual frustration fueled my apprehension, but if sex was off the table when he was happy with me, I certainly wouldn't get screwed tonight.

"That's sleeping in for you," I smirked, yearning for a smile, but I only got a slight nod of the head in agreement.

Anxiety prickled at my skin. It was like a scab I couldn't stop touching. Persisting meant more damage and delayed healing, yet I couldn't stop. I held my breath in hopes the sensation would pass, but when it didn't, I couldn't hold my tongue any further.

"Since you don't have to be up early…" I tested the waters, fiddling with the strap of the high heels I'd carried since we left the party, "We should talk. Maybe."

Christian looked over his shoulder, wiping a palm over his drained face as he replied, "I would rather go to bed." His voice was full of fatigue, and I questioned how much I'd contributed to it.

The rejection was warranted. This was a long night for both us, and for weeks, he'd worried himself over my injuries. He had every right to be exhausted. But warranted rejection was still rejection. How was he not saying _something_? I told his sister his darkest secret, for fuck's sake. There were things he needed to get off his chest, and keeping it in had to be unhealthy.

This time was supposed to be different, but if we didn't talk things through, was it really so different? Were we not headed on the same path of disaster? Prodding him was all in the name of a better relationship. Or that was what I told myself. Maybe my motive was far less selfless. I was so afraid of messing this up and losing what we had.

"We could talk in bed," I persisted, chewing on my lower lip.

Christian sighed, growing frustrated, "I would rather _sleep_, Anastasia."

"Right," I murmured, bobbing my head in tempo to the drawn-out word. The exercise irritated Christian, but he kept his mouth shut.

At the rehearsal dinner, we had such a productive talk. We _communicated_, which was a fucking breakthrough. Christian was being honest, and so was I. We had a disagreement that we peacefully resolved. He'd shared so much with me, and I was so proud of him. I was so proud of _us_. Hounding it was like prodding a balloon with a sharp stick, yet I hounded.

"Just," my hands fidgeted out of nervous habit, "If we sleep later, we could work this through now, and we'd probably sleep better."

Christian's hand rested on the rail of the staircase, closing his eyes as his jaw tightened. He took a deep, calming breath and opened his eyes again. "We worked through it at the party. We worked through _all of it_ at the party. There is nothing more to cover. However, we have not slept, and we should go to bed. If it is important, it will still be important in the morning."

"But we won't be together in the morning. We'll be apart until after the ceremony, and I don't want this to stew all night," I sighed, "I'm sorry."

"Ana, I told you I understand. What more do you want on this?" Christian raised his eyebrows with sleepy eyes, exasperation written across his face.

"Well… I want to talk about it," I admitted, "I know you understand, and I know you don't blame Mia or me. But I also know you're angry, and you're holding it in. I just want us to get it out." Christian looked at me like I was crazy, and for a moment, I wondered if I was. My judgment was hardly sound. I was tired. I hadn't had sex in weeks. I was avoiding discussion of my abductors and their prosecution. I was on pain killers, and my feet hurt from a cruel pair of stilettos. Now, I was asking my boyfriend to show his anger more.

"What do you actually want to know?" Christian asked, throwing his hands up in the air for emphasis, "You said that you know we're okay. We were okay when we left the rehearsal dinner. If we were done talking then, why do we need to talk now?"

"We _were_ fine, and then we didn't talk the entire drive back home," I reminded him.

"We didn't talk because there isn't anything to talk about," Christian fumbled to get the baby gate open on the stairs, vexation evident.

"How is there nothing to talk about? We had a fight about sex-" I began, but Christian cut me off.

"Which we worked out," Christian interrupted.

"And then your sister guessed about Elena, and I confirmed-" I persisted, but Christian interrupted again.

"Which we _also_ worked out. Since we've had such a productive night, can't we just go to bed?" Christian finally got the gate open, holding out his hand for me to walk up the stairs, but I stubbornly stood my ground.

Maybe this wasn't as big as I thought it was, but it definitely wasn't as small as he thought.

"But _did _we work it out?" I asked, "We said we loved each other, which we do. But I know you, Christian. You're angry at me, and you should be. Just say it. Say _something_ about it."

"Do you want me to yell at you?" Christian stared at me like I was insane, "What would that even prove? I _forgave you_, and I meant it, Anastasia. There is nothing left to discuss. Let's just _sleep_."

"You can't forgive me if you never admit you're angry. I know what I did wrong, but I don't know what it did to you. I don't even know what I'm being forgiven for. Did I betray your trust? Do you really believe me when I say that Mia pushed me?" I put my hands on my hips.

"Okay, okay," Christian conceded, "I'll humor you. Did you purposefully tell Mia about Elena?"

"Of course not!" I declared.

"Then you're completely forgiven. Like it never happened," Christian started up the stairs.

"But you should ask me questions like that. It _did_ happen, and avoiding it doesn't accomplish anything," I was so frustrated, "Do you really _not_ see why this is important? I'm not just being an annoying girlfriend. This matters. Elena hurt you. You lied to your family for over a decade. You told me a secret, and now, your sister knows. Stop acting like this isn't a big deal."

"It's a big deal, okay?" Christian admitted, stopping on the fourth stair and staring at me with the fiery intensity I'd begged him for. "It has been a very long night," Christian sounded the words out slowly as if reliving it with every syllable, "I would just like to end it and go to sleep. Can we please just do that?"

"You're not supposed to go to bed angry," it was hard to stand on moral high ground when he was so much taller than me.

"I'm too fucking tired to go to bed angry," Christian's filter slipped away. Exasperation replaced eloquence, "I am going to bed _tired_."

My eyes narrowed, and I seethed with anger, "You know what? Stop with that shit. Yes, I am pushing, but you're not going to make me crazy for it. I'm not just starting a fight. You're _dodging_ one."

"We've had so many fights tonight, Ana. Can I miss this one?" Christian was being an ass, and I was tired of it.

"Fuck this. Don't tell me what's wrong. Just go to bed," I dropped my stilettos to the floor, rolling my eyes as I turned away from the stairs and stomped towards the kitchen.

Tired or not, there was no way I was just going to bed after that. I could at least get a glass of wine and give him time to stomp off before I went to bed, and depending on how mad I was after a glass of wine, I could decide if I was going back to our bed or if I would camp out in the guest room until I cooled down. Maybe he was right, and maybe I just really needed sex…

But I only made a few steps before I felt a hand on my arm.

I turned around ready to be yelled at, but instead, I was met with something far more disturbing.

Christian was _scared_.

No, he was more than scared. Christian wasn't even moving. With one hand planted on my arm, he remained perfectly still as if the world would crumble beneath him given the wrong move. His chest heaved with anxious breaths, and soon, they became the only noise in the room. His eyes locked on mine, pupils dilated, and he refused to break eye contact. He looked at me like I would disappear if he looked away…

"Are you leaving?" Christian asked, now a timid voice full of apprehension.

"What?" I whispered, leaning further into Christian. I instinctively placed my hand on his arm, well within the safe zone. I'd only seen him like this at my hospital bedside, and just my consciousness was enough to calm him then. I didn't know how to fix this. Why was he asking if I was leaving?

"Are you leaving me?" Christian repeated, and I lost my breath.

He was afraid I was leaving him again.

I'd done it before- arguably just as suddenly as this-, and he was afraid I would do it tonight.

_My poor Fifty…_

"No, Christian… I was just… stepping away for a minute," I reassured him, watching his chest rise and fall as his breathing evened out. He didn't release my arm, and I didn't release his.

Christian would never get over me leaving him.

No matter how much I wanted to pretend that it was forgivable, it wasn't. It didn't matter that I thought I was doing the right thing. I hurt him in ways I couldn't understand. Christian never left me. Even when he had every reason to, he was the one who always stayed, and he was always waiting for me to come back. Though romantic, it was also heartbreaking.

Leaving- and leaving with his only child and leaving as long as I did- wounded him. _I_ wounded him. I loved him with everything I had, but I was _still_ harming him.

"You still think I'll leave you," I managed between silent sobs. It was a truth undisputed by Christian, but I secretly wished he would tell me I was wrong. I was too weak to stand and dropped to the hardwood floor, "You're not over it. You'll never be over it. I hurt you," I futilely wiped away a tear, quickly overwhelmed by mascara stained tears that streamed down my cheeks.

Christian knelt beside me, and though his presence comforted me, he was incapable of stopping my whimpers. Each one nearly made him flinch. It killed Christian to not be able to fix my problems just as it killed me to not be able to fix his. His extensive control did not extend this far.

"You're right," Christian agreed, and it knocked the wind out of my chest.

I grappled with his honesty, struggling for breath and reveling in the shock. I wiped a palm over my face and remained thankful that I couldn't see my reflection, but I stared up at the man who could see me in this vulnerable moment and realized that he was the only person I wanted to. With anyone else, I would have been horrified that they witnessed tears, but Christian wasn't anyone else.

He was home. He made me feel like _me_. Even when he made things more difficult, he somehow made everything easier. I loved him more than I thought I could love anyone, yet I caused him such pain. It wasn't fair to him.

"I can't do that to you," I lamented, "You can't spend your life afraid I'll leave in the middle of a fight. You-You should be able to tell me all of your bullshit and know I'll still be there in the morning, and I will- even if I'm in another room. I love you, Christian. You deserve better than that."

"Ana…" Christian pushed my hair behind my ear, "I fear losing you because I can't imagine living without you. I did it once, and it was hell. That was before we had this family, and I can't lose that. I can't live without you, Ana. I don't care if it it's melodramatic," Christian shook his head, "I can't."

I intuitively reached for Christian's hand, intertwining my fingers with his and squeezing for support.

"You're talking like you're leaving me," Christian's voice rose with panic, "Please don't leave. Especially not for a bullshit reason like it not being '_fair.'_ I love you, Ana."

"I'm not," I vigorously refuted, "I'm staying. Tonight and every night. You're not getting rid of me or this family. Why are you so afraid I'll leave?"

Christian paused, and his fearful expression only intensified. Something was there. Something he wasn't telling me.

"What is it?" I urged, "What is your secret that makes you think I'll run for the hills even after I've shown you my commitment to you and our family?" my voice trembled, "Tell me. Please."

Christian took a deep breath and conceded, "There's more you don't know about my… sexual life before you."

"Christian, I really could not care less how many people you've fucked," I retorted.

"It's more than that," Christian shook his head, "Ana…"

Fuck, it was serious. Christian was too nervous to talk further, so I let myself delve into the pockets of my mind I'd neglected. I thought about the Red Room a lot, and the possibility that I was not enough to fulfill his dark desires plagued me. But I limited my concerns. I didn't want to know what some of those items were, and I didn't want to know about the women who had been inside.

"You have to tell me so I can prove I'm here to stay," I reassured him, and Christian nodded hesitantly.

With a heavy sigh, Christian began again, "I'm a sadist, Ana. Or I was. I like to whip little brunettes like you because you look like the crack whore- my birth mother. I'm sure you can guess why." The words were rushed as if they'd been waiting by some closed door for years and were determined to get out before Christian changed his mind.

Oh my God.

This was bad. This was so much worse than I imagined.

My hand cupped my mouth as the horror manifested itself, and I reflected on the implications of what he just said. I looked like _them_. Who the fuck was _them_? The subs? It was easier to pride myself on being different from them when I thought we at least looked different. He picked me because I fit a criteria, because I looked like the woman who hurt him. I couldn't stand the idea of being associated with something so _painful_. She neglected him and left lasting scars Was that why I always hurt him? Because his mother had once done the same thing?

Scouring through my memories, , I recalled our first conversation about his sex life. Our time together was tattooed on my brain, and I remembered him saying he wasn't a sadist.

"You said you weren't a sadist." It was the wrong thing to focus on but the first thing that popped out of my mouth.

"No, I said I was a dominant. It was a lie of omission. I'm sorry," Christian averted his gaze. He was mortified. But why was he mortified? Because he lied, or because of what he was? "I had a very different idea of our relationship at that time."

_At that time._

I reminded myself that things were different. Back then, I didn't even know how to blowdry my hair, and I certainly didn't think that Christian Grey would be a lasting figure in my life. People change. But his trauma may have permanently engrained itself in his personality and sexual needs. If he was really a sadist, then he needed all of that shit I couldn't do. I cupped my head in my hands. We were incompatible. We actually were. How could this be? We loved each other so much, but if this was true, how could we be in a functioning relationship?

"So, you really do need it?" I looked back up at him, broken and terrified I may lose him.

"No, no, no, no, no, Ana. No," Christian quickly rebutted, "You give me everything I need. I'm still who I was last night and the night before that. I love you and Teddy, and you are more than any sub. You were right that you needed to know, but it doesn't change anything. I promise, this _doesn't_ change anything. Please don't go."

Considering his words, I stared at Christian and waited for my view of him to return to normal, but it didn't. This was so fucked up. I couldn't just look at him the same way, but I found that he was still mine even from this angle. He was still Christian. He was still my Fifty.

"I won't go."

Christian was taken aback by my hasty declaration, but I meant it.

"This is fucked up. But you're Christian Grey. You're the father of my child, and I love you. What can I do to prove to you that I won't run? That I would never run again," I pleaded.

Christian seriously pondered my question, and I waited in anticipation. Anger, hurt, and vulnerability flashed in his eyes. I watched as an outsider desperately wanting to get in. I wanted my fifty, no matter how many shades of Fucked Up he was.

"There's something you could do," Christian confessed.

Silence followed. I raised my eyebrows to urge him along. Whatever it was, I would do it. I would do anything. I just needed him to tell me."

"Marry me."

The words didn't process immediately. Instead, they just circled around me like sharks waiting for me to finally understand. My mouth dropped open, and my eyebrows knit together in surprise. Surely, he didn't say…

No, no, he couldn't have. But he _did_.

"What?" I didn't even realize I said it, and the only way I knew I did was that Christian responded.

"Marry me, Anastasia," Christian Grey repeated. _Christian. Grey_. Despite the clarification, I was just as dumbfounded as before.

_Holy fuck. _Christian Grey just proposed to me. This wonderful, fucked up man proposed to me in the middle of his living room. Proposed marriage. As in a lifelong, legally binding commitment. The same man who only let subs come on weekends and limited his emotional connection to Mrs. Fucking-Robinson.

Just for a moment, the world stopped. Nothing else mattered but Christian's words and his proposal.

It was… it was…

The more I thought about it, the harder it was to suppress the giggle forming in my chest. Disbelief intensified each tiny chuckle, and I tried to hold back in vain. I descended into full hysteria, falling against the floor in a fit of laughter. I felt like an innocent onlooker watching the whole thing in slow motion just to savor the humor. I surrendered to the absurdity and felt my tear-stained cheeks twist into a comical grin. It was shocking and serious and yet so fucking funny.

As the laughter died off and the ludicrousness returned to the background, I opened my eyes to see Christian looming over me. Unlike mine, his expression lacked a sidesplitting grin and euphoria after cathartic howling. Instead, he asked, "Is something funny, Miss Steele?"

Despite his wry humor and new smirk, the intensity remained in his eyes, but now it was guarded against me. The pain he showed while saying my name- specifically _Miss_\- proved that there was something to read in his expression. I wanted to see my humor mirrored in him, but instead, I caught a glimpse at his wounds. The reality of it came crashing back and reminded me that this moment was real. He genuinely offered me a solution. He offered himself. He offered a life together, and I laughed in his face. _Oh, Fifty…_

"Christian…" Saying his full name felt too impersonal now, even if he'd said mine, "Your sense of timing is…" words failed me. I wanted to say something to make him laugh, but nothing felt right.

His eyes crinkled, and his hurt sobered me up.

"You're cutting me to the quick here, Ana. Will you marry me?" Christian asked again, and I didn't try to make a joke out of it. Instead, I contemplated my response.

After what felt like an eternity but couldn't have been more than a few seconds, I admitted, "I don't know."

It was a crushing blow to Christian, and I squeezed his hand tighter as his body language shifted away from me.

"It's midnight, and…." I stopped that line of reasoning and vowed to be more honest, "We've been through so much together. We had a kid. We broke up. We tried to split custody between coasts. Your ex tried to shoot me, and I was abducted by fucking psychopaths. You told me about your… _shades of fucked up. _We've done this together, and I never doubt how much I love you."

Hope entered Christian's eyes, and I felt like a bitch for squashing it as I added, "But there's so much more to a marriage, and rushing could be its ruin. Yes, we've known each other for years, but if we compile the time we've actually been together, it's only a few months. We've only shared a bed for a month, and this is the first time we're living in the same state in three years. We decided to have sex again- Thank God- but haven't reconciled where the Red Room fits in. There's so much I don't know about you and that you don't know about me."

Christian was taken aback, "The Red Room is of no consequence, Ana."

"But it is," I refuted, "That's a part of you. I love all of you, but we have to be honest with each other about all of our parts. And 'kinky fuckery' is still there. I liked it… some of it. Maybe not the heavy shit, but I liked it. I want to go back in one day, and we have to discuss it. We have to discuss _a lot_."

"I've replaced one compulsion with another. I need you more than any of that. I will take you any way I can have you, and it isn't a sacrifice. I want it. I would be more than happy to spend the rest of my life with you and vanilla sex."

"I know," I nodded, placing a hand on his cheek, and his hand rested on top of mine.

"Then marry me, Anastasia."

I bit my lower lip, "This isn't a no. This is me asking for you to give me time. Time where I will still be here and where you will wake up to me every morning."

Christian finally accepted my answer- or lack thereof. His gaze averted and focused on the Seattle skyline out of his window. Tonight, we were in our own world above the city. Below, the world moved at its regular pace, but here, time ticked at an irregular rate. Pain, surprise, and misunderstanding filled our spacious living room, but it was still _our_ living room. He was still mine, and I was still his.

Finally, he turned back to me with a sleepy, wicked grin that hid the disappointment and hurt he felt. "You laughed at me."

"No," I smiled softly, sliding into his lap and tucking myself into his arms, "I laughed at your timing."

"If I had better timing and more _hearts and flowers_, would you have said yes?" Christian didn't shy away from the big questions, so I tried not to shy away from answering them.

"I don't know," I admitted.

Christian nodded in understanding and staggered to his feet, offering a hand to me.

"You can take me to bed now. If you would rather sleep," I offered a smile that was reciprocated as he helped me up. His arm snaked around my waist to offer support, but I didn't know if it was for him or me.

We walked through Escala in comfortable silence, taking each step together and sharing relief as we approached our bedroom. The remaining layers were abandoned at the door, and finally, our long night came to an end. And that night, he held me tighter than he ever had…

* * *

**So, I struggled with writing up Chapter 34 but finally got a draft I was okay with, and right as I was putting finishing touches on it, I got the idea for this draft and picked this one instead. I had to reference the original trilogy and put my own spin on it while finding time in this crazy summer, but I really like the results. Before you all start hating Anastasia, remember that they've both been through hell and may be unconfident in their relationship right now. It doesn't mean that they're evil or unhappy. It just happens. **

**Before publishing this, I struggled with the fact that this fight had been resolved in the last chapter and that it was not as intense as the one in the FSD, but the more I thought about it, the more I thought this worked. It was out of character for Christian to be so calm, so I wanted to delve further into his response and what could be lurking inside of their happy relationship. I didn't want his impulsive proposal to be thrown out during life-or-death situations. I wanted to show that it mattered in their everyday life and that it would give him peace of mind even in small disagreements. But I still know you'll be disappointed she didn't immediately say yes. I'm a little disappointed, too, but this was right for the story.**

**Since I've been gone so long, I hope you have had an amazing summer and will continue to follow this story. Regular updates should be coming soon. As always, please follow, review, and follow. It means the world for me.**

* * *

_**This chapter references to chapter 14 of Fifty Shades Darker, which I do not own. All rights belong to the E.L. James, Vintage Books, etc. **_


	35. Fifty Shades of Kate's Wedding

_**Fifty Shades of Secrets**_

**Chapter 35: Fifty Shades of Kate's Wedding**

* * *

_**Christian Grey,**_

"Last few shots," Elliott announced mid-throw, his eyes trained on the basketball that missed the hoop for the third time in a row. This declaration had been made several times, yet we were no closer to the 'final shot'. Elliott's pride insisted we keep playing until we tied up the score, but even as I purposefully tried to lose, Elliott's nerves only contributed to his low score. For the first time in thirty years, his cool started to slip away and expose a man on the cusp of a lifelong commitment.

Understandable, Elliot was nervous on his wedding day, so the wedding planner sent him away to collect his thoughts and relax before the ceremony. As the only groomsmen not saddled with a tedious chore for the bride, I was drafted to accompany him and keep him out of trouble. And without a doubt, I was the most unqualified person for this position.

"You're getting married in an hour. Just admit that you are going to lose," I grumbled, guzzling a bright blue sports drink to quell my distaste. Jealousy prickled at my skin as I watched my brother. Attending a wedding after being rejected was terrible enough, but watching a man procrastinate his nuptials infuriated me.

There was no love lost between Katherine and me. I'd been equally shocked and horrified when my brother entered a serious relationship with her, and I begrudged their engagement because it meant I would have to see her further. I consoled myself with their happiness, but that didn't make our meetings any easier. Holidays were particularly bad as her first _Grey Thanksgiving_ ended in a pumpkin pie narrowly missing my face and staining my grandmother's white cabinets.

Dr. Flynn agreed that our hostility extended beyond clashing personalities, and it was rooted in my failed relationship with Anastasia. Katherine hated me for driving Anastasia away, and I hated her for controlling and mistreating Anastasia- even if I was just as guilty. Furthermore, I hated her for correctly judging us. She was right when she told Anastasia that we were incompatible, and she was right when she said I would hurt her. But she was right for all of the wrong reasons. She missed Anastasia only in context. On big occasions or holidays, Katherine would remember Anastasia and miss her. I missed Anastasia everyday, going beyond a nostalgic conversation to a daily ache.

Anastasia's return should have ended my feud with my future sister-in-law, but I would never forgive her for her treatment of Anastasia. When Ana nearly died, Katherine selfishly thought of her own wedding, and while Anastasia was willing to forget and absolve, I was not.

But as much as I _hated _Katherine, at least she said yes.

He proposed, and she said yes. They planned a wedding. He would be married to her in less than twenty-four hours, and he was fretting over a basketball game.

She didn't give ambiguous answers like "I need time."

Elliott -the son of a bitch- didn't even know what he had.

"Everybody loves an underdog story," Elliott retrieved his ball from the edge of the court, and my jaw tightened at the mention of an underdog. He was definitely not the _'underdog'_ today.

"We're the only two on the court. I won't tell if you're a few points off," I checked my phone yet again and added, "We don't have time for the cold feet bullshit."

Elliott looked over, cocking an eyebrow as he rested the basketball on his hip, "Someone's being a dick today. Found out you had to wear a pink bow tie? I was the one who suggested it," he explained with his signature _big-brother-smirk_.

"Oh fuck off," I glared, "We're just running late."

"It's my wedding. They can't start without me," Elliott took another futile shot, "Besides, I expected you to spend this time trying to talk me out of the wedding. You know you want to, shithead."

Fueled by jealousy, it sure as hell was tempting to encourage my brother's doubts in the name of brotherly love, but not even I would break this up. All I wanted was for Anastasia to say she'd marry me. I wasn't going to ruin that for my brother.

"While I may seem like an asshole, I make an effort to be less of one at important events," I griped, "And I've accepted it. Don't understand it, but I accept it. It's my fault. I took you to Vancouver to see Ana, and you met Kate. Had I left you at home, probably never would have met her." Somehow, that made it worse. How had he and Kate figured all of this out better than Ana and I had?

"Maybe," Elliott shrugged, a grin plastered on his face, "Seriously, your game is shit. If you didn't have physical proof you got laid, I'd still think you had your V-Card."

I choked on my sports drink, spraying artificial blue liquid all over my shirt.

"I mean, you went all the way to Vancouver just to get laid. That's some virgin shit right there, Christian. Then, while I'm meeting my future wife and going back to her apartment, you got vomit on your shoes. Clearly, I should have helped my baby brother out," Elliott was on a roll, and I almost didn't want to stop him.

"In the end, I have _physical proof I got laid_\- also known as Theodore, by the way- while you got Katherine. Arguably, still the victor," I persisted, and Elliott nodded his head with a smirk.

Finally, Elliott turned away from the basketball hoop but didn't move to the car like I'd hoped he would. Elliott let out a dramatic sigh, casting his gaze to the clouds, and my posture fell with the realization he was no closer to leaving.

"I just didn't think it would happen to me," Elliott snorted, "Marriage. Mortgages. Picking up milk on the way home. That was shit for somebody else, you know? Before Kate, the longest I'd ever been with anyone was two months. I thought I liked being alone. I had the freedom to do whatever I wanted whenever I wanted. Now… I don't have that. I come home to the same woman every night. We're looking at _grown-up houses_ and selling the houseboat. Within the next ten years, I'm going to be a soccer dad. I mean, what the fuck?"

I nodded my head in silent agreement. If anyone could understand, it was me. I hardly recognized my life from only a few years ago. Until Anastasia, giving up my dominant lifestyle was not just unlikely, it was unimaginable. Commitment and family were not supposed to be apart of my life, but now, it was my _entire_ life.

I was begging Anastasia to marry me and obsessing over her rejection. I had a son, who was everything to me. I bought a house in the suburbs and intended to remodel it into a family home where we could have birthdays and holidays. Theodore would grow up, and we would raise him together. There would be soccer games, teacher conferences, and off-key recitals. And I was excited about it. I wanted to stand in terrible lines at Disney World so that I could see his face when he met Mickey Mouse. I wanted to bribe him into flossing every night and watch horrible cartoons because they made him happy. I wanted to be a family more than I'd ever wanted anything in my life.

And I needed the commitment from Anastasia that she would be along for the journey.

As much as I tried to convince myself otherwise, marriage _was_ important to me. I wanted Anastasia to be _my_ Mrs. Grey. I spent hours trying to talk myself into all of the reasons she cited as her rejection, yet it didn't work.

Yes, a marriage would be a rush, but how would that be any different than everything else we'd done? We conceived a child within a few weeks of meeting each other, for fuck's sake. What would time give us that we didn't already have? What would change from today to a year from now? How would we be any different? Anastasia could have died during that accident, so why would we purposefully waste time when it wasn't guaranteed?

If Anastasia really did plan on spending the rest of her life with me, why would her answer be different later? We'd weathered so many storms that a quick engagement hardly made the list. But maybe she _didn't_ see herself spending the rest of her life with me. Maybe that was the problem. She laughed at me. I offered myself and a lifetime of commitment, and she _laughed_. I needed her so much that uncertainty plagued me.

I was so deep in thought that I jumped when Elliott spoke up again, " The weirdest part is that I'm happy about it. I want this. I'm legally committing to this," Elliott continued, dropping the basketball and putting his hands on his hips like he was posing for some romantic comedy poster.

"Then stop fucking around," I held the car keys up, putting my envy aside for the wedding countdown.

Elliott glared at me and threw up a middle finger as he sauntered off of the court, but I was pleased with the brotherly victory. With Elliott at the helm, we drove through Seattle like madmen and nearly wrecked his truck as he wheeled through precarious intersections. I was practically green when we reached the venue and couldn't wait to get out of the car, and under the time crunch, I went right into my duties as Best Man.

Begrudgingly putting on my pink bow tie, I watched the rest of the groomsmen pile in from their various duties across town. Most of them were Elliott's friends from college with a few work colleagues mixed it. Of course, there was the groomsman who had drunkenly asked why Elliott looked nothing like his siblings at the bachelor party, and he avoided talking to me at all costs. I didn't mind that they were all doing their thing without me because I was happy to think about something other than marriage for a brief point in the day.

And besides, there was a very special ring bearer to attend to.

Clearly enamored with Theodore, my grandmother didn't want to let him go to strap him into his cheesy pink costume, but at least Teddy was compliant with the gold-dipped corsage that was nearly the size of his head.

"I do it!" Theodore proclaimed, swatting my hand away when I tried to help him fasten his shoes, and my heart skipped a beat as I panicked he would no longer need me. Flopping to the ground, Teddy fiddled with the Velcro until the fasteners lined up, and I stayed close to admire his handiwork and make sure he was alright.

When his shoes were fastened tight enough, Theodore stood up, and I resisted the urge to sweep him up and protectively carry him through the hotel of potential landmines. The lack of baby-proofing made me even more uneasy, so I held onto his hand like the overprotective parent I was. The wedding planner was waiting for us and eagerly arranged the order of the incoming wedding party, quelling anxiety and encouraging it at the same time.

"There's our ring bearer!" the wedding planner sprinted over, bending down to grin at Theodore, and he hid behind my leg. I smoothed his copper curls behind my hair as she stared up at me, her eye nearly twitching with the possibility her plan could be destroyed by an annoyed toddler.

"He's a little bit nervous," my mother stepped in, offering her hand to Teddy, and he hesitantly moved away from me and held his grandmother's hand, "But he's very excited to be the ring bearer."

"I have _an important job_," Teddy quoted Katherine's speech to him last night, sounding out each word with emphasis.

"Yes, you do," the wedding planner encouraged him, "It's time to get ready though. Let's go get you situated, is that okay?"

Teddy looked up at me, and after an encouraging smile, Teddy followed the wedding planner and his grandmother to the front of the growing line.

"Hey, you."

I turned and saw Anastasia smiling at me, putting me at ease. Even if she didn't agree to marry me, she was clearly still here, and she was still mine. I frowned as I surveyed Anastasia's body, and she self-consciously fidgeted in response. "She covered you in makeup," I stated simply, surprised by her new appearance.

"Bruises wouldn't look good in the wedding album," Anastasia shrugged off my observation, "It is a strapless, so nowhere to hide them except with concealer."

Teddy looked back over his shoulder, waving his arms frantically to further express excitement with his new position as ring bearer. Anastasia beamed and waved back, and that was our last moment to ourselves before the wedding began. But at least I got to walk Anastasia down the aisle…

**Anastasia Steele,**

The ceremony was the eye of the storm.

Leading up to the vows, all hell broke loose. Various details fell through, and tiny rips in dresses nearly put Kate to tears, only furthering the nervousness when the make-up artist ran out of waterproof mascara. And afterward, the stress returned. There were pictures to take, legal documents to sign, and a reception to attend.

But for that ceremony, everything was calm.

Any doubts I had about this marriage were put to rest when I saw genuinely happy they both were. I had never seen Kate cry - let alone cry from _happiness_\- and my heart melted. Tears and "awws" were distributed liberally from the crowd, and I was just so happy to be apart of it that I didn't mind if she was a royal bitch up until this point.

She can make up for it at my wedding.

A sudden thought startled me. _My wedding_. Those two words carried a different connotation after last night. The love of my life asked me to marry him, and I didn't accept. He was clearly miserable at his brother's wedding, surrounded by support for a couple where the bride actually said _yes_ when proposed to. Guilt swallowed me whole as I remembered how terribly I'd handled the surprise proposal. I couldn't stand hurting him, yet I'd _laughed_ when he asked him to marry me.

I tried to stay strong by remembering all of the reasons I'd put our engagement on hold. We needed more time, and if we had a lifetime together, what was a year or so to figure everything out? There was no reason to rush. We had Teddy to think about, and I wanted to get this relationship right for all our sakes.

That didn't make it any easier though. It was hard to be at a wedding right now, and I was tempted to bury my frustration in the lavish dessert bar, but instead, I got dragged into various conversations across the reception. I wanted to play with Teddy and compliment his wonderful job as ring bearer, but Christian needed the comfort of Teddy more. So, I sucked it up and talked to Kate's friends while I waited for them to come back.

"So how did you meet Kate again?" one of them asked, jealously eying up my bridesmaid dress in an effort to show she didn't think I was worthy.

"We were college roommates. Lived together for four years," I replied, awkwardly sipping on water, "How do you know her?"

"Work together at the paper. Started out at the same times, and our fathers are very good friends. I was almost a bridesmaid," she pursed her lips, "But I really didn't have the time, so I told her that she didn't even need to ask me. I guess she picked you instead. Strange I hadn't heard much about you."

"I'm sure you would have been a lovely bridesmaid," I murmured, looking for an exit from the conversation.

"Though, I do have to admit that I am a bit jealous you got to walk down the aisle with Elliott's brother. Such a catch, right?" Kate's friend looked through the crowd and winked at Christian from across the room, and I was convinced I was being punished, "I'm _this_ close to getting him to ask me out. I mean, look how cute he is with that little boy!"

"Mmmhmm," I searched for a familiar face so I could bolt.

"So many girls are disappointed by him. He _never_ asks anyone out, so it's a pretty big deal," she bragged, "I bet you tried, right?"

Suddenly, like a golden angel from above, Katherine Kavanaugh-Grey herself appeared and came to my rescue. With a hand on her hip and a champagne glass balanced in the other, she interrupted her colleague.

"Susan, he did _not_ ask you out. He asked if you were alright when you fell at my Fourth of July party last year, and no, she didn't _just _try. Ana lives with Christian and has a son with him," Kate explained, and Susan's face ran blood red. Mumbling an excuse, she quickly excused herself from the awkward conversation, and Kate grinned at me as she mouthed "you're welcome."

Still decked out in her lavish wedding dress, Kate was in her element. Undoubtedly, she was the only person who could even make the gown work- let alone look stunning. A shimmering gold dress hugged her every curve, reminding the world of the intense pre-wedding diet she'd embarked on, and a tool layer on top formed an a-line with intricate flowers at her feet. She was beautiful, and when I remembered the freshmen Kate who rescued me from a terrible dorm and worse roommate, I wanted to cry.

"Now that I'm a married woman, things feel clearer, and…" Kate took a deep breath, "I was a bitch. I am so sorry, Ana. You nearly died, and I thought about your stupid dress. I can't apologize enough, and I would do anything to make up for it."

"Its okay… I was a shitty friend, too, so we're even," I admitted.

"That's not the same thing, Ana."

"But it was still terrible. I ran away and disappeared on you, and it wasn't fair," I acknowledged, "Let's just… move on and start over. Is that okay with you?" I asked, and I was quickly enveloped in a hug.

"Damn, I love you, Ana," Kate laughed into my shoulder, "Now, I do have one favor to ask of you since you're still my bridesmaid for a couple hours."

"Okay?" I replied warily.

"Your boyfriend is pitiful over there, so go perk him up," Kate nudged me in Christian's directions, and with a deep sigh, I agreed.

Christian and I hadn't gotten to talk much after his rejected proposal, so I was timid to talk to him again. When I finally saw him through the crowd, I was knocked down by how beautiful it was to see him holding our baby boy as he fell asleep on his shoulder.

"There's my Teddy Bear," I twirled my finger around Teddy's bouncy ringlets, and Christian leaned down to kiss the top of my head. Teddy had put in a good effort to stay awake to get his little grin in as many wedding photos as possible, but it was past his bedtime. He was barely holding on, and not even the promise of ice cream could lure him out of slumber.

"He's tired…" Christian explained, "He should get to bed soon."

My ears perked up, secretly eager to get home and stop thinking about weddings, and I concurred, "He's been up for a long time."

"Why don't I take him home?" a new voice startled me, and I turned to see that Christian's grandmother had been close behind. Damn it.

"Oh no, we couldn't ask you to leave the party," I persisted, hoping to hide how much we both wanted to go home.

"I'm an old woman who is going to bed anyway, and you two deserve time to yourself. I was a mother to a toddler once, so I understand, sweetheart," his grandmother's good nature was heartwarming, and that made it so much harder to say no, "Pick him up in the morning, and Grace and I will take care of him."

"Thank you so much," Christian caved, and very carefully, he transferred Theodore from his arms to his grandmother's.

"He's so beautiful…" she traced Theodore's chubby cheek, "He looks so much like both of you. You two would have such a beautiful little girl," she winked, "How many children are you planning on having?"

I looked to Christian, suddenly realizing we'd never talked about it. This was part of why we needed to wait before getting married. We hadn't talked about so much. How many children did we want? Would they be in private or public school? Would we put them in lots of clubs or only a few? Would we keep nannies through their childhood or just before they started school?

"We don't really know yet, grandma," Christian admitted.

She nodded thoughtfully, "I was telling our priest about you two, you know, and I hear it's very common for families to be perfectly fine without being married."

I choked on my drink. She talked to her priest about us?

"Are you two planning on getting married?" she continued, and my jaw nearly dropped. I'd prepared myself for questions from his family about Theodore and why nobody had heard of him, but I was _not_ prepared for this.

Oh fuck. I looked to Christian, knowing this was the worst question possible for her to ask, so I took the question in his place, "There's still a lot to figure out."

"Oh I know, parenting is a lot to figure out, but you're good kids. You'll get the knack of it," his grandmother grinned at us, completely unaware that she was upsetting us, "And you'll have beautiful babies and a beautiful wedding."

My eyes nearly bugged out of my head, so I tried to change the subject, "We don't want to hold you up. Do we, Christian?"

"Of course not, Grandma. Love you," he kissed her cheek.

"Love you, too, Chrissy," she smiled at him and squeezed my hand, "It was very nice to meet you, Anastasia."

"It was lovely meeting you, too," I bid her farewell and kissed my son's cheek, and she set off to say goodnight to the newlyweds and return to Bellevue.

I looked up to Christian and waited for him to say something, but instead, he just pulled me closer. I melted into him in relief.

"If it makes you feel any better, she asked Kate if she was pregnant when they got engaged," Christian whispered in my ear, and I practically lost it.

"I can only imagine Kate's face," I leaned into his shoulder, "Probably just as bad as when Kate realized my arms are still bruised. I'm afraid of touching anything with all of this makeup on. I'm convinced there is foundation all over your jacket now."

"You didn't need any of it," Christian muttered, still annoyed that I'd been covered in makeup for the sake of wedding photos.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, "You know I still love you, right?"

Christian's eyebrows raised to show he was confused, so I continued.

"I didn't say yes, but that doesn't mean I don't love you. And I don't want this to be awkward," I chewed on my lower lip.

"I love you, too, Ana, but it is hard," Christian acknowledged.

"Then let's do what your grandmother said and enjoy the wedding…" I suggested, and he smiled, placing a kiss on my nose.

* * *

**Considering I've known I was going to write about Kate's wedding since the beginning, it's crazy that it was this hard to write!It came out choppy, but as I wanted to get this out there, I thought this was the best draft. I just couldn't get it right, and (spoiler alert) I wanted to add a lemon but had to move it to the next chapter because it would be 6,000 words otherwise. **

**I'm going to warn you that I am going to be very busy because I move into the dorms in two weeks, but I plan on getting chapters out more regularly when my schedule is back on track. **

**Thanks for reading! Please review, favorite, and follow. And get excited for an upcoming lemon!**


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